


Cold nights, warm hearts

by PLISA



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Also..., Bellarke, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Jake Griffin Lives, Slow Burn, Smut, So much smut, and a surprise at the end, but also so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 74,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PLISA/pseuds/PLISA
Summary: Bellamy Blake couldn’t stand Clarke Griffin (was that even her name?). Her mere existence was driving him crazy. She was a stupid, privileged brat who didn’t deserve a second of his time.So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?—An enemies, to friends, to friends with benefits, to lovers story. Essentially every trope I love combined.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 339
Kudos: 402





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! I’m back :)
> 
> I’m sorry it took longer than I was planning to! I had this great idea in mind for a Bellarke fanfic but it didn’t quite work out when I wrote it, so I started again. And now here I am.
> 
> I hope you like this story as much as you liked the previous one! There are many plot twists and drama (of the good kind, mostly) in this one, so buckle up!
> 
> I’ll try to update daily, as I’ve already written 7 chapters of this story, but please bear with me - I have started working and studying again :)
> 
> Kudos and comments are highly appreciated!

The rain poured down over the city with a roar, and in that moment he realised just how fitting the phrase ‘being under the weather’ actually was. Because he was feeling like  _ shit _ . He could barely make out the streets from the driver’s seat, which was definitely not a good thing. But he got to his destination nonetheless, much to his despair. 

Bellamy stepped into the rain. In seconds, his clothes were soaked and his skin wet. The trees offered no shelter as he dragged himself towards the apartment complex, droplets smashing their way through the foliage above. 

The building in front of him stood imposing in the middle of a crowded street, far from the surroundings he was used to. It read ‘Palace’ in big, fancy letters. Glass panels and huge windows stared back at him as he made his way into the lobby, tool box in his hand. He wouldn’t have even considered setting foot in such a place, but work was work. 

He didn’t let the literal working fountain in the lobby (with small fish and all) get too much in his head as he walked past it and got into one of the _three_ elevators. 

_ Snobs _ . 

It went without saying that he would have never accepted the job if he didn’t need the money. God, Miller would definitely make fun of him right if he knew where he was. Not that he wouldn’t tell him later, anyway. But. 

Octavia had called that same morning, explaining in a rushed voice how her friend’s dishwasher had essentially exploded. Because, apparently, that was an emergency. Bellamy didn’t even  _ own _ a dishwasher, for crying out loud.   


  
  
He wasn’t one to judge, though, not when his money was at stake. But knowing that the broken dishwasher in question was in Palace, of all places, had made him think twice. 

He mentally cursed at his sister as the elevator stopped on the sixth floor, and an equally impressive foyer was displayed in front of him. No fountain this time. Perhaps that would’ve been too excessive, even for people like them. He looked down at Octavia’s message:  _ ‘Sixth floor, apartment 22.’ _

Bellamy breathed in and out before ringing the bell. He shouldn’t really be making that much of a fuss. They were a bunch of snobs, anyway. And it was  _ work _ . He could manage it if it meant he’d be able to pay rent that month. 

After a few seconds, the door opened abruptly, “You’re Bellamy, right?”, a woman asked in a rushed voice. 

He nodded, bringing his tool box up, “Here for the broken dishwasher.”

“Right,” she looked behind her nervously, “Sure, come on in.”

Bellamy spotted the kitchen quickly and went to work right away, trying to ignore the lavish apartment he was in and the skittish presence behind him. What the hell was her deal?

“Think you can save it?”, she asked after a few minutes, probably because he hadn’t done anything to it yet. 

“Definitely,” he stated, simply. But he made the mistake of looking her way.

Blue eyes, golden hair. Shorter than he had expected (because, for some reason, he had imagined how this woman would look). Her arms were crossed in front of a closed pink robe, and she wore matching pink slippers. He couldn’t help but smirk. She could very much be the spitting image of a princess in her own Palace. How fitting.

“Thank you for coming so late”, she said, suddenly. Her tone gave away a certain nervousness that hadn’t been there before, “Octavia told me you have a pretty tight schedule.”

Bellamy turned his attention to the dishwasher, where it should’ve been in the first place, “Yeah,” he said, “But not too tight, apparently.”

“Right,” she fidgeted with the belt of her robe, “You’re her brother, right?”

He simply hummed in response. Was this some kind of interrogation? But he kept his mouth shut, his expression neutral. He couldn’t afford to lose a penny. Not when people that lived in those kinds of buildings left good tips. 

After nearly half an hour of going back and forth with the damn dishwasher, he realised it was just a clogged drain. He fixed it as quickly as he could, because it was pretty late already, and he just wanted to plop down on the couch and beat Murphy at whatever game he decided to suck at that night. 

“I believe it’s done,” he said, standing up from the cold ground. The woman was sitting on her couch, laptop on her knees, “It was just a clogged drain.”

“Great!”, she exclaimed, and went directly to her purse.  _ Good, straight to the point _ , “How much is it?”

“Eighty dollars.”

“Right, um…,” she bit her lower lip as she looked through her purse. Bellamy looked away, “I just have a hundred. Keep the change, don’t worry about it.”

_ Well, damn _ . He was not going to say no to an extra twenty bucks. But just for show, “Are you sure?”

“Totally,” she smiled, then handed him the money, “I’m Clarke, by the way. But Octavia probably told you that.”

She might have, actually. But he didn’t remember. He was not particularly interested in remembering anyone who lived in such neighbourhoods, in such buildings, anyway. Bellamy smiled politely nonetheless, “Yes, I remember,” a client was a client, right?, “I’m going to head out. Call me if you need anything else.”

“Sure, will do,” she smiled again. God, could she just...stop smiling? Why did he find it annoying, anyway? It was just a smile.   


Maybe  _ he _ was the annoying one after all. 

He went back to his car, and noticed that the weather had significantly calmed down. Just like his mood. He was finally going back home, and jeez. He couldn’t wait to get away from such surroundings. 

His neighbourhood came into view some moments later, and he felt the weight of his shoulders getting lighter. Identical red brick houses dominated the street, and an outsider would have had trouble finding the house they were looking for. Their place was unmistakable, though, as it was the only house in the whole street with the Pride flag stuck to a pole in their front yard. It’d been there for the past year, and nobody had said a word - which was ultimately a good thing. He really didn’t want to punch any neighbour (not that he’d even hesitate).

When he opened the door, noise started drumming on his ears. They couldn’t possibly be getting smashed on a Thursday night...could they?

“What the hell is going on?,” he stepped into the crowded living room where, sure enough, his friends were getting hammered.

“Big brother!”, Octavia raised her full cup at him, “How was your day?”

He huffed, “Worse than yours, clearly,” he sat down on the only spot available, the recliner, as Monty started to pour him some kind of weird alcoholic mix into a tall glass, “Not today,” he turned it down, “Some of us actually work tomorrow.”

“Can’t relate,” Murphy took a long sip of his drink, finishing it in one gulp, and put it on the floor next to four other empty glasses. 

“So you didn’t have a good day?”, Octavia stood up from her seat on the couch, and plopped herself down on the floor next to him, “Did you fix Clarke’s dishwasher?”

“Oh, that I did,” he half-laughed, “I can't believe you’re friends with someone like that, O,” he almost sounded disappointed.

His sister frowned at him, “Why?”, she asked, defensively, “Clarke’s cool.”

“Yeah, super,” he joked, “She’s a privileged brat, that's what she is. Do you know where she lives?  _ Palace _ .”

“Oh, wow,” Jasper raised his eyebrows, and let out a low whistle, “I hope she tipped you well.”

Bellamy took his hundred dollar bill from his pocket, and showed it to them. He couldn’t  help it as a small smile drew on his lips. It was good money, after all.

“That should help pay Murphy’s part of the rent,” Miller said. 

“Hey!”, the man threw an empty plastic cup at him, “I do pay my rent, dude. Most months.”

“Most months,” Miller repeated. 

“She’s rich, and so what?”, Octavia ignored her friends’ bickering and turned her attention back to her brother. 

Bellamy side-eyed the drink Monty had poured for him earlier. Perhaps he’d need it if their topic of conversation was going to be  _ her _ , “You know what,” he simply said. 

Octavia gave him a look, but didn’t say anything. Harper was the one to speak, “Isn’t she your co-worker or something?,” she asked Lincoln. 

_ Oh, great _ . Lincoln was there, too. Just what he needed, Bellamy thought. To talk about a snob rich girl and his sister’s boyfriend all at once. Perfect. 

The man nodded, “She works at the art gallery most afternoons,” he told Harper. His eyes then laid on Bellamy, and he didn’t flinch as he said, “She’s actually very nice.”

“See?”, Octavia peered in, “You seriously need to stop judging people before you meet them, Bell.”

Is that what his evening had become? A roast? Just because he wasn’t interested in being friends or even get to know a privileged, princess girl that his sister seemed to like so much?  _ Fuck this _ . 

He stood up slowly from his seat on the recliner, “You guys have fun,” he said, “I’m heading to bed.”

“Bummer,” Murphy finished yet another glass. 

Bellamy ruffled Octavia’s hair before disappearing down the hall and upstairs to his bedroom. The dark room was like a place out of time, a place to rest without consequence. The darkness was like a sanctuary, somewhere to recharge and forget about work, snobs, and whatnot. He changed clothes, drew back the covers and climbed into the empty, cold bed. 

As he laid on his back, wide awake, his brain started working more than it should have at such a late hour. He should probably just ignore it - it was almost embarrassing that she had affected him so much.   


She was just living her life, even if a privileged one, and she hadn’t been anything but nice to him (hell, she even tipped him well). But there he was nonetheless. Stressing over someone who had most likely forgotten about him altogether. 

He couldn’t help it. He swore he’d never get close, not even in proximity, to someone like that again. And he'd have been fine if she’d just been a sporadic client, but she wasn’t. She was Octavia’s  _ friend _ . He was hoping she’d know better by now. He hoped she’d learnt the lesson. But apparently not.

It became quite clear after a while that he wasn’t going to sleep. How could he? He was too annoyed at himself, and he couldn’t shut down his brain. He shifted his weight to the other side of the bed, hoping the new cold sensation in his back would do something to his state. But it didn’t. 

He took his t-shirt off. Perhaps it was the heat of the room that didn’t let him sleep. He didn’t realise what he was doing until his hand was inside his pyjama shorts, stroking himself ever so slightly. Well. If that was what it would take to get him to sleep, then so be it.

Bellamy gave himself some time and space to slow down. Touching himself wasn’t a guilty pleasure for him, not something that had to be completed quickly. And he was in the mood that night, apparently. 

His hand roamed the base of his cock until he wrapped it around his length. He’d rather someone else do it for him, but he wasn’t going to call anyone that late at night. Although Roma would probably pick up. Whatever. 

He started pumping his cock up and down, slowly at first. He pressed his thumb on the head with every stroke, and squeezed at the base every time his hand came down to mimic the clenching of a body that he wanted to sink into. But there was no body. Just his hand, his imagination. 

His thoughts trailed back to a couple of days ago, when he had fucked Roma from behind in that very spot. He tried to imagine that his hand was hers, even if she’d only gotten him off like that once before. He closed his eyes, threw his head back, and his movements became faster.

Precum started dripping from the tip, and he used it to lube up the rest of his cock, pretending it was someone else’s fluid. He suppressed a moan at the back of his throat. If his friends (and Octavia,  _ God Octavia _ ) knew he was masturbating alone in his room like a horny teenager while they were getting drunk downstairs they’d never let him live with it. 

He mentally shook his head and focused on the task that was at hand. Quite literally. He picked up the rhythm, the muscles in his calves threatening to pull.  _ Fuck _ . 

He let out a low groan as he imagined himself fucking her mouth, pulling her blonde hair with his strong fist as she took his whole dick down her tight, eager throat. 

Wait. Blonde?

Roma was a brunette. 

_ What the fuck? _

But he was so close, so very fucking close that he didn’t even care anymore. His other hand gripped the covers around him, desperate to feel like he was pushing someone’s head over his cock. And for some reason he didn’t understand, it was Clarke’s head.  _ Shit _ . 

Bellamy pictured her as she opened the door for him that very evening, wearing a fucking pink robe. Was she wearing something underneath? He decided she wasn’t, as he let himself imagine what her naked form would look like. Breathtaking, most likely. 

It was all wrong. She was a privileged brat and he shouldn’t be fantasising about fucking her mouth, and spilling his cum down her throat. But he was, and he couldn’t stop now. Not when he was so fucking close. 

His cock twitched on his hand, and he started pumping it even faster. He pictured her above him, those full lips now wrapped around his length, gagging and choking as she tried to deepthroat his whole cock. Because there was no way a pretty princess like her could take a man so well. She was probably spoiled as hell, and would want him to do all the work. Not that he’d mind. 

The thought of her was all-consuming, and he didn’t understand why. He couldn’t even stand the girl, for fucks sake. But for some reason his mind had travelled to her, and now there he was. Jerking off at the memory of a stupid girl he’d just seen once. A girl he didn’t even like. 

He imagined what her moans would sound like. High-pitched, desperate,  _ needy _ . It was all it took for him to come down his high. With a guttural groan, perhaps a little louder than he intended, he came hard all over his hand. He allowed himself to breathe in and out a few times before getting up and cleaning the mess. 

What the hell had just happened?

What kind of sick tricks was his mind playing on him?

He decided he had just been horny as hell, and a bit too tired as well. Nothing to worry about. It wouldn’t happen again. 

After climbing back into bed, he closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him. It came a lot easier than before. 

Just a one-time thing. It would never happen again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated :)
> 
> Happy reading!

“Each raindrop is like a kaleidoscope, if you look closely enough.”

“Are you on acid?”

Rain fell with a laziness about it, as if it could barely be bothered to conform to the will of gravity. The wind howled in a low pitch, and Clarke tightened her coat around her body, boots splashing in the puddles formed the night before. 

“I’m not on acid, Raven,” she rolled her eyes, “But it’s true. There’s more to what meets the eye.”

The brunette’s eyes widened, “Wow, okay,” she half-laughed, “Does rain make you nostalgic, or something? You’re acting weirder than usual.”

A car passed by on the road, splashing the couple in front of them. It hadn’t stopped raining since the day before, and even though Clarke loved the rain, it was starting to become an inconvenience. Walking to campus as the sky opened on its full glory and poured down all it was worth wasn’t the best trip to class she could think of. 

Campus was weird. It was like a small world populated by teenagers, young adults who didn’t behave neither like teenagers nor adults, and people her parents’ age who never socialised and never attended any parties or gatherings. She felt like a middle-aged woman just at 22.

The classroom was warm, a nice contrast with the chilling cold outside. It was mostly full as she walked in, forcing her to take one of the seats in the front rows. She enjoyed Art History, really. She just didn’t enjoy the professor quite so much. Diyoza was passionate in her speech, but it could be a bit too much sometimes. 

None of her friends shared her classes, so she was all alone. She knew a few of her classmates, but she wasn’t all that interested. She was there to learn, anyways. And her friends were waiting for her outside those four walls. 

As the minutes of the lesson passed, Clarke swore she could almost _feel_ the boredom. Diyoza was talking, and talking, and talking, and no one really was asking any questions, so it was all like a flat line. She glanced at the clock behind Diyoza’s desk. Just ten more minutes. She could survive that. 

She dismissed them five minutes later, and Clarke immediately stood up from her desk. Her legs were _killing_ her. She took her laptop from the small table and put it inside her bag, which was way too heavy already. 

At least she could go home now. Walking all the way to campus just for one class was a little inconvenient, but she couldn’t afford to miss Art History. She wasn’t really acing that class, so to speak. There was just something about history as a whole that couldn’t get past her brain. She wasn’t able to memorise any of it, but she was not going to let it ruin her GPA. 

As she turned around, eyes locked at the top of the stairs, she caught a glimpse of a familiar, but not quite, mop of black hair. Her heart skipped a beat, for some reason. Could it be him? Clarke visibly shook her head. 

It was too late to find out, anyway, as the man in question turned around and left the classroom. It probably wasn’t him, though, she thought. She didn’t know that much about him, but she knew he worked as a handyman around Arkadia. Octavia had mentioned nothing about him attending college at the same time, _her_ college. She would’ve said something. Then again, she hadn’t known Octavia that long, either. Hell, it was only a few nights ago when she found out she had an older brother. 

Quite the attractive older brother, too. 

She didn’t know what she was hoping for when her dishwasher broke down the previous day and Octavia immediately offered him to go and fix it. She didn’t think he’d go, anyways. Apparently he had a tight schedule, and it wasn’t like she expected him to come by late in the evening. But he did. 

Her apartment was a mess (in her eyes), and it smelled like paint, and she absolutely didn’t want this man to find out how much of a disaster she was. But he didn’t seem to notice, or care. He did his job, and left. 

So, whatever. The chances of sharing a class with him were slim to none. 

Just as she was about to leave the now almost empty classroom, her phone buzzed with a text. It was from Niylah. 

_‘Apparently some engineering kid is throwing a massive house party tonight. It’s Friday ok?? We’re going’._

Was it Friday already? Clarke didn’t particularly feel like going out, but she knew Niylah wouldn’t take a no for an answer. Neither would Raven. She quickly texted Wells and begged him to come with them that evening. He wasn’t a party animal like her other two friends, and she’d feel less alone if he was there. 

Wells texted back a few minutes later, and to her surprise, he agreed to go. 

_‘Just one other thing. There’s this girl I’m seeing. Can she come, too? You’ll love her!’_

So, her plans to possibly sneak out of the party with him had gone to shit. Great. She texted him a thumbs up, because she actually didn’t mind that much, and left. 

The walk back to her apartment was even less exciting, because Raven had classes to attend. But at least it wasn’t raining anymore. 

“Hey, Clarke!”, a male voice behind her made her stop on her tracks. She didn’t recognise who it belonged to until she turned around. 

“Finn.”

“Hey,” he said again, looking a bit out of breath, “Sorry for stopping you like that. Um, right. Do you happen to take Art History, by any chance?”

He then scratched the back of his neck, and she could tell he was nervous. What for? They couldn’t have spoken more than two sentences to each other since the year started. 

“I do, yeah”, she smiled politely, “Why?”

“I was wondering if you’d like a study partner,” he gave her an awkward grin, “Totally cool if you don’t, though. But I’m having trouble with that subject and...yeah.”

She debated her options. She wasn’t all that great at Art History herself, to be honest. But he probably didn’t need her to explain any concepts, and he just wanted some tips or whatever. That, she could do. Plus, was that Finn...Collins? He was kind of cute. 

“Sure, why not,” she agreed, “Monday at 3pm, library?”

The boy visibly relaxed, “I’ll be there. Thank you.”

“Of course,” just as she was preparing to leave, he spoke again. 

“Sorry, I just, um,” he was nervous again. What was his deal? She didn’t think she was worth getting nervous over, “Can I have your number? Just in case, you know, something comes up.”

Clarke stared at him for probably longer than she should have. Should she overthink this? Was he...interested in her? She didn’t have as much experience with men, or boys, as she would’ve liked, and only had their friends’ experiences to guide her. See, this wouldn't happen if he was a girl, she thought. Girls were much more direct. 

“Sure,” he handed her his phone and she typed in her number. He called her immediately afterwards. Clarke raised an eyebrow. What would be the point of giving him a fake number, if they were going to see each other on Monday?

“Great, all set,” he smiled easily, “Thanks again, Clarke. I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Finn,” she waved him goodbye, and felt a bit stupid as she did so, when he chuckled in response. 

She sighed. _Men_. Who the fuck can ever understand them?

* * *

That rug. That poor rug had definitely seen better days. 

Clarke stared at the once red, now kind of grey-ish, inanimate object, almost empty cup in hand, as everyone danced and walked and spilled their drinks over it. Perhaps she’d drank too much already, if she was getting emotional over a damn rug. 

She shrugged, and took another sip. The music escaped from every door and window, and she could only hope this guy’s neighbours were deaf, or something. Having the police show up was never the intended goal at college parties, but this one seemed to be going in that same direction. 

The bass thumped in time with her heart beat as she pushed herself past the crowd, and attempted to find at least one of the three friends she had come with. Although she thought that maybe she didn’t really want to find Wells. He had brought a lovely girl with him, Sasha, and really, she was very nice and funny and everything. But they were probably making out as she scanned the house, and that was a sight she totally didn’t need to see. 

Neon lights flashed everywhere, and it only made her task more difficult. Come on, the house wasn’t even that big. She should be able to find at least Raven or Niylah. Just one of them. 

“Look who’s here!”, a voice behind her shouted. At first she thought it belonged to Raven, and she even doubted it was directed at her. But then, she turned around and saw-

“Octavia?”

“The one and only!,” the girl raised her cup in the air, her arm then falling over Clarke’s shoulders. Her breath stank. She had definitely had a tad too many. 

Clarke raised a confused eyebrow, “You go to college?”, if she remembered correctly, Octavia worked at the local gym, and at some sketchy bar some nights. 

“Nope,” she laughed, “But they do!”

Sure enough, she looked behind the brunette and saw two boys she recognised as Monty and...Jared? They looked equally as hammered as Octavia did, but they were also giggling uncontrollably. Alcohol wasn’t the only questionable substance on their system, she could tell.

“I see,” Octavia tripped over her own feet, momentarily losing balance. Luckily for her, Clarke had her arms around her, “Easy, Octavia,” she looked over at her friends, and she could only hope they’d hear her over the roaring sound of the speakers, “Hey!”

The Asian guy (was that Monty or Jared?) heard her, and immediately walked her way, “Hey! I know you!,” he exclaimed, and much like Octavia, tripped over his own feet. He didn’t fall, but a few sips of his drink did, “Shit! Um, hey! You’re dishwasher girl, right?”

Dishwasher girl? What the fuck?

“I guess I am,” she raised an eyebrow, “So, um, Octavia here can’t even stand still. Any idea how she can get home?”

She thought they’d probably driven or walked there, but none of those options seemed plausible right now. The three of them were intoxicated out of their minds.

The other guy finally approached the group, stumbling as he did, “What’s up?”, his grin was stupidly big. What the hell was this guy on?

“Octavia needs to go home,” she spoke, her tone firm. The girl in question had her head on her shoulder now, her eyes closed, and she feared she was falling asleep right there. 

Jared (or Monty) looked at her closely, “We kind of drove here, but,” he smiled, “That’s not an option anymore.”

“Clearly,” she muttered, but she doubted they’d heard her, “Is there anyone I can call to pick her up?”, she asked, louder this time. 

Both guys shared a concerned look, and for a moment they even looked sober, “I mean, there’s _someone_ ,” the Asian guy said, “But I don’t think Octavia would be too happy if we called him.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Look...Jared?”

“Monty. And this is Jasper.”

Right. So there was no Jared at all, “Sorry. Monty, okay. Look, she can’t even stay awake. She needs to go home now.”

He looked at his friend again, and the guy simply nodded, “Fine, I’ll call Bellamy,” he finally said. 

Oh, Bellamy. Octavia’s brother. Right. 

Monty dialed his number, but tripped over the rug (God, how many rugs were in this house?) and the phone almost slipped from his hand. She didn’t hesitate, “Give it to me.”

She snatched the phone from his grip and brought it to her ear. Three tones, and then, “Monty?”

The voice at the other end sounded worried, which was understandable. He was probably wondering why this random person was calling him at such an odd hour. Or perhaps they were friends. She didn’t even know. 

“Hey, um,” she suddenly got shy. For some reason, his voice over the phone sounded intimidating. 

“You’re not Monty,” he interrupted. 

Clarke sighed, “Obviously,” she resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “Monty’s stoned right now, I think. This is Clarke,” silence from the other line, “Dishwasher girl.”

“Oh,” he sounded genuinely surprised, “Yeah, dishwasher girl, right,” a pause, then, “Is there a reason why you’re calling me from Monty’s phone?”

“Octavia‘s pretty drunk,” she explained, “I think she needs to go home.”

“I’m on my way,” he said, quickly. 

“Wait!”, she adjusted her grip on the girl, “Do you even know where we are?”

She swore she heard him sigh from the other end, “Of course I know,” his voice sounded deeper, “She’s my sister. I’ll be there in ten”.

“Okay,” she said, but he had already hung up. She handed the phone back to Monty, “I’m taking her outside. Bellamy’s coming shortly.”

The boys nodded, and waved them goodbye after checking one last time if Octavia was okay. 

When they stepped outside, Clarke thanked Octavia’s body pressed against hers. It was so bloody cold. Frost was growing over the grass, and she watched as her breaths rose as new white-puffed clouds. The leather jacket she was wearing was doing absolutely nothing for her. And Octavia wasn’t even wearing a jacket in the first place, but she doubted she even realised how cold it was in her state. 

It was the type of coldness that reached into her bones, and she urged to pace back and forth until Bellamy got there. But she couldn’t. Not with Octavia’s almost asleep body hanging from her neck. She had definitely underestimated Arkadia’s cold nights. 

Five minutes later, a black pickup truck pulled on the empty street in front of the house, and Bellamy climbed down the driver’s seat. She had only seen him once, but his face was a hard one to forget. He immediately set his eyes on them, and crossed the street quickly. 

When he reached them, he took his sister from her grip, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and another one under her legs. He picked her up effortlessly, as if she were light as a feather, and Clarke didn’t realise she was staring until he spoke. 

“Thanks for calling,” he said, hesitant to look at her in the eyes, “You made the right choice.”

She nodded and finally wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing on her skin to get some heat. Inevitably, she started shivering, “It’s nothing,” she managed to let out between crackling teeth. 

Bellamy looked down at her, and she momentarily felt self-conscious. He probably thought she was stupid, wearing nothing but a short skirt and a leather jacket to a house party in the middle of winter. But then again, he wasn’t much better. He was wearing grey sweatpants and black a t-shirt that was perhaps too tight (not that she was staring).

“So um,” he cleared his throat, “Do you need a ride?”

The tone of his voice sounded almost as if he was asking out of pity, an obligation. He probably didn’t want to give her any ride, and would much rather get his drunk sister to bed as soon as possible. He was just offering because she was a girl, and she seemed to be quite alone. She was, actually, if she was being realistic. 

She hesitated, but ultimately shook her head, “Don’t worry,” she said, “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

He looked down at his sleeping sister in his arms, then back at her, “Okay, well,” he sounded nervous, but his voice was as deep as always. How was that even possible?, “Have a good rest of the night. And thanks again.”

She nodded, and he was off. Wow, so much for wanting to give her a ride. He didn’t even ask her again, just to make sure. Clarke shook her head. She really didn’t get boys at all. _Men_. Bellamy fell more in the ‘men’ category, she thought. Again, not that she paid that much attention to him. He just looked older. 

Whatever. She debated whether to go back inside and look for her friends, but she was honestly too tired to cope with all the music, and people, and drinks again. And rugs. God, those poor rugs. So she sent a text over to the group chat to let them know she was going home, called a taxi, and left. 

Raven texted back just as the driver pulled up to her apartment building. 

_‘Going home with some hottie I hope ;)’_

Well, she thought, she had almost technically gone home with Bellamy, but-

_No_. 

What the hell was her problem? Since when did she associate the word ‘hottie’ with Bellamy Blake? She paid the driver and hurried into the building. Catching a cold was the last thing she wanted to do, although it was probably too late already. 

She made a mental note not to wear short skirts during winter, and she made another one not to think of Bellamy like that ever again. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the Bellarke slow burn for a little longer... 
> 
> Happy reading!

It finally stopped raining on Monday, and the sun actually peeked shyly through the clouds as Clarke left her apartment. But she wasn’t feeling any better. 

She adjusted the woven scarf around her neck tightly, wishfully trying to put a remedy  _ now _ to something that was pretty much out of her control already. The ten minutes she’d been outside with Octavia on Friday had taken a toll on her health, and now she couldn’t stop coughing. Or blowing her nose, or shivering for that matter. Her head hadn’t stopped spinning all day, either. 

But she wasn’t going to let a simple cold get in the way of her day. She had too much to do. 

She adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she made her way to campus, wearing the thickest jumper and the thickest coat she could find on her wardrobe. She was boiling under all the layers. 

The streets around campus looked like an unfinished painting. At least under her artistic gaze. The area was fairly new, and all Clarke saw was a blank canvas ready to be painted. Some buildings were under construction, and a bunch of new shops and cafes had opened near campus, as well. She certainly needed to check those out. 

She glanced at the clock - 2:45 pm. She still had fifteen minutes until she had to meet Finn for their...study date? Perhaps not a date. 

Leaving the cold air behind, she entered the old part of the library. Dust collected everywhere as far as she could see, spider webs woven loosely around some books. A bit of cleaning never hurt nobody, but apparently the staff there didn’t know that. Clarke pushed open a heavy swing door at the end of the corridor and stepped into a newer, more modern and cleaner room - the one students actually used. 

Row after row of neatly lined up books stood before her, the smell of paper invading her nostrils. She breathed in. God, she loved the smell, the sound, the feeling of books. The librarian at the desk didn’t even look up from her computer to ask for her ID, so she decided to just keep walking. 

She was supposed to meet Finn in one of the group rooms, where they could actually talk - or whisper, so she started walking towards the end of the spacious room, where they were located. 

Six or seven people were already sitting at the tables, working. A man in a knitted sweater was reading  _ Theogony _ . She smiled. A Greek-mythology nerd, huh? She hadn’t seen one of those in a while. 

As she walked to the back of the room, Clarke found herself not being able to peel her eyes off this man. His face was hidden by the pages, the only visible part of him being his hands. And jeez, they were  _ gigantic _ . She instantly imagined how she’d draw them: big, robust, thick, strong. She’d never seen hands like that, ever. 

The man in question must have felt her deepening gaze on him, because he lowered his book as she passed by, and locked eyes with her behind his glasses. 

Clarke gulped, mouth hanging embarrassingly open, “Bellamy?” 

She wasn’t whispering, and  _ now _ the librarian looked up from the screen and shushed her aggressively. She blushed, but went towards him in an act of bravery. Slowly, she pulled back the chair next to him and sat down under his confused gaze, “What are you doing here?”, she whispered this time.

Bellamy closed the book, his expression unreadable, “Taking a break from studying.”

“Studying?”, Clarke was visibly confused, “What?”

He didn’t say anything, but instead gestured to the open textbooks in front of him and the dozens of pages of notes scattered all over the place. She arched an eyebrow, “Are you a student here?”

Bellamy nodded, and pointed at the cover of one of his textbooks: Ancient History, it read. Oh, so he was a History student. At Arkadia? Something clicked in her mind, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Did you attend the Art History lecture last Friday?”

He nodded again. So she  _ had _ seen him. Oh my god, she shared a class with Bellamy Blake. Why the hell was she freaking out over this? 

“Oh, I just…”, she was feeling nervous all of a sudden, “I just thought you only worked. I didn’t know-”

“Shh!”, the librarian was looking at her again, as did a couple of other people in the room. If looks could kill, she would definitely be dead. 

She looked back at Bellamy, and noticed an amused half-smirk on his lips. God, did he give so many freckles the other day? Because they were  _ everywhere _ . His cheeks, his nose, under his eyes… She felt she could get lost in his skin. 

“She’s going to kick you out,” he muttered, voice barely audible. 

She blushed, “Probably,” she looked back at the librarian again. Her head was hidden behind her desk, “I should go.”

He hummed, and went back to picking up his book. But she kept staring at him, almost as if she was waiting for the conversation to continue. It was pretty obvious that he didn’t want to keep talking, though. So she grabbed her bag again and headed to the back of the room to wait for Finn. He didn’t say goodbye, and neither did she. 

Perhaps she’d misinterpreted it all. Bellamy clearly didn’t like her very much, or that’s what she picked up anyways. Because, okay, now they were in a public library, where they weren’t allowed to speak. But he hadn’t made an effort to be nice to her, either, when she picked up a drunk Octavia from her arms. She’d expected him to be a little bit more grateful after that, but whatever. 

They didn’t need to be friends. Just because she liked Octavia didn’t mean that she needed to like her brother, as well. Not when he made sure she knew he didn’t like her. 

She didn’t have much time to dwell on her feelings, anyway, as Finn walked in the group room a few minutes later. He put his backpack down next to her and got his laptop out. 

“Wait,” she whispered, standing up from her seat next to him, “Let me close the door so we can actually speak,” she smiled. Finn simply nodded.

As she reached for the door handle, she made the horrible mistake of looking at the tables in front of her. 

Bellamy and her locked eyes. 

She shut the door. 

* * *

Okay, he was fucked, and so what?

It certainly wasn’t the end of the world. He would probably forget about this in less than 24 hours, anyways. 

He blamed Murphy for all of it. He was well aware he had taken the afternoon off to study, so what was the reason? What was the motherfucking reason?

Fifteen minutes. He had lasted  _ fifteen minutes _ studying at his desk when the loudest moan he’d ever heard erupted into the house. He let out a heavy sigh. No fucking way. 

He grabbed his books, shoved them into a backpack, and shut the door loudly behind him. He pulled his phone out once he was behind the wheel, and away from the horrendous sounds coming from Murphy’s room downstairs. 

_ ‘You’re a fucking moron. Doesn’t Emori have a place? I told you I needed to study.’ _

He pressed send, but wasn’t really expecting a reply. The drive to the library was faster than he’d expected, probably because everyone was at home. Where he should be. He tightened the grip on the wheel, momentarily wishing it was Murphy’s throat. 

But once he got there, and saw that the studying room was practically empty, he actually realised that it wasn’t all that bad. He had felt a bit self-conscious at first, walking into campus. He certainly wasn’t an old man, but his presence was a clear contrast with the 20-year-olds that reigned Arkadia University. Whatever. He had waited way too long to do that fucking History degree. He was not going to shy away now, certainly not because of a bunch of teenagers. 

After an hour or so, he decided it was actually going quite well. He hadn’t gotten distracted, and the lessons he had to study were already familiar to him. Years and years of watching documentaries and being made fun of for it had finally paid off.  _ Suck it, Miller.  _

And then, it all went to shit. Because what the fuck was she doing there?

Okay, perhaps he was overreacting. This was the university’s library, after all, a place she was enrolled in just like he was. But still. What was she doing here?

He freaked out ever so slightly as she pulled a chair and sat besides him. What was her goal, exactly? Getting kicked out? Because that was totally the direction it was going. 

The librarian shushed her, and her skin reddened around her nose. He had to look away. 

_ Focus, Bellamy. Focus.  _

To make matters worse, he found out they actually shared one class. Art History wasn’t necessarily the most eye-opening subject he had, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. It felt like a break to him, from all the politics and wars and whatnot of World History. It was a breath of fresh air into his study routine. And now it was ruined. Most of his classes were online anyways, due to his work, so he made a mental note not to attend that lecture again. He was going to avoid her if he could. 

Was he being childish? Probably. Did he care? Absolutely not. 

Sharing a classroom, or a library room, with someone like her wasn’t at the top of his priority list. It wasn’t even on the list, to be quite clear. 

She left as fast as she’d come, and not even five minutes later he saw some guy go into the same room she was in. Not that he was looking, or anything. He frowned. So, she had a study date. Probably with a guy of her same status, another rich kid he should avoid at all costs. 

Just as she was going to close the door, she looked his way.  _ Fuck _ . He hadn’t realised he was staring.  _ Shit _ . But she shut the door behind her immediately, perhaps a bit too harshly, and he knew he’d had enough. 

He pulled his phone out and texted Roma. His afternoon of studying could go to hell.

He drove to her apartment in no time, trying to focus on the girl he was about to see. Why did he keep running into the one he was trying to get away from?

Roma’s apartment was in a nicer part of town than his. Certainly there was nothing that reminded him of his area in the neat, rectilinear streets and the featureless, repetitive buildings. Most of them were white, and they lacked a personality, he thought. 

Her building came into view soon enough. It was a three-story construction above a manicure parlour. She buzzed him in, quickly. They didn’t waste any time, mouths colliding the second she opened the door. 

Everything was always quick with Roma. Their body chemistry was undeniable, but there wasn’t much more to it. He didn’t feel anything but pleasure as he slid into her, not much foreplay needed. It was a rare occurrence between them, like an unspoken rule. They met, fucked, and parted ways. It worked for him. 

She felt good inside him as he pounded into her from behind. Roma was a whiner, and it only kept him going deeper and harder. He let go of his frustrations in bed, and for some reason he knew she did, too. She was a nice girl, sure, but nothing more than a quick fuck every now and then. He was aware he was just that for her, as well. 

“Rough day?”, she smirked, once they were done, her body hidden under her white sheets. 

Bellamy put his sweater on and scanned the room for his jeans, “Kind of,” he confessed. It was uncommon for them to engage in small-talk after sex, but he wasn’t going to be rude about it. 

Luckily for him, Roma wasn't in a talkative mood. As he drove back home, he could only wish Emori and Murphy weren’t still at it. Now that his frustration had washed off, he knew he should probably go back to studying. 

But the universe had other plans for him. 

When he reached home, he spotted Octavia’s bike on the driveway. He arched an eyebrow. What the hell was his sister doing at his house at such a random hour?

“Octavia?”, he called immediately as he opened the door. 

“Living room!”

Sure enough, his sister was sitting on the floor of the living room with Miller, Murphy and Emori. 

“What are you doing here?”, he put his backpack on the floor and sat down on the couch. God, he was exhausted. 

The brunette shrugged, “I wanted to see you,” she said, “We haven’t seen each other since, you know.”

He arched an eyebrow, “Since you threw up on my bedroom floor last weekend?”

Miller chuckled, “I told you I’m sorry!”, Octavia threw her head back in desperation, “It got too out of hand.”

“You don’t say,” he rolled his eyes, “O, you’re not a little girl anymore. Take care of yourself, please.”

His words almost pained him as he spoke. She wasn't a little girl anymore, and she never would be again. No longer did she want to be just like him, no longer did she mimick his expressions and words. Now their similarities irked her and she was determined to be as different as possible. And perhaps it took the best of her, sometimes.

Lincoln was a great guy. He hated to admit it, but he was. He kept Octavia in line, as much as he could anyways. He was well aware that his sister was a force of nature, and couldn’t be tamed. And it was infuriating that she had not only one, but two men looking after her, who cared and loved her more than they loved themselves, and she kept behaving like a fucking careless kid. 

Octavia lowered her gaze, looking almost embarrassed, “I’m sorry, Bell,” she muttered, “I promise it won’t happen again.”

He felt like a father lecturing his daughter on her stupid behaviour. And, in a way, he was. He had been, and he knew he’d still be in the years to come. 

“Yeah, Octavia,” Murphy stepped into the conversation, “You would’ve been passed out on someone’s floor if it wasn’t for Clarke.”

Bellamy gulped. And there she was again. Was she the number one topic of conversation in that house, and he wasn’t aware of it? Was that it?

The girl eyed her brother carefully, “I know,” she said, “I told you she was nice.”

The older Blake couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He wasn’t going to say a word about it. Clarke this, Clarke that. Well, they could have her. They could worship her twenty four-seven if that’s what they wanted. He was having none of it. 

“She called you, right?”, Emori asked. 

“Yeah,” Octavia answered for him, “It’s kind of embarrassing if I think about it, honestly. But I’m so grateful she was there.”

Bellamy hated to admit it, but he was, too. In a way. Kind of. 

“We should invite her over on Saturday to thank her,” Octavia smiled ear to ear.

The rest of the living room hummed in agreement. Bellamy mentally face-palmed. So now he had to find something else to do on Saturday, so that he wouldn’t be there to see her. Great. Planning to run away from his own home, that’s where he was currently at. Pathetic. 

Luckily for him, they changed topics after that. But he zoned out. He hadn’t thought about Clarke while being with Roma, which ultimately was a good thing. That night in his room had been a mistake, he was sure now. It would never happen again. 

It had ruined his day, seeing her at the library. The sight of her was rocking his mind, leaving it moving in foreign ways, ways he had become unaccustomed to. Perhaps Clarke wasn’t as bad as he had pictured her to be, if she cared so much about his sister. 

_ No _ . 

Those kinds of people only cared about themselves. One act of kindness wouldn’t erase who she really was. An uptight, bratty girl. He could see right through her layers of pretending, and that’s what he saw. 

So, why was he feeling so damn conflicted?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, alright... I’ll give you *some* Bellarke in this chapter 😉
> 
> Happy reading!

If stress was a cup of coffee, and if the cup spills you become overwhelmed and sick, then it would make sense to put a lid on that cup. Right? Well. 

One way Octavia would put a lid on her cup was to train with the kids at the gym. It was no secret that the Blakes loved children, and being with them brought a warm and relaxing feeling to their spirits. So, children and exercise was one hell of a good lid for her. 

Murphy, on the other hand, used sex as a lid for his coffee cup. But again, he used sex for many other things, so it was difficult to tell when he was truly overwhelmed by something. Not that he had too many things to worry about, anyway. 

But Bellamy hadn’t found the lid to his cup yet, and that’s why he had been at the verge of a mental breakdown all day. 

It started with an early call for a clogged toilet. And he should’ve seen the rest of the day coming, because clogged toilets never ended well for him. It was one hell of a disgusting job, and this one was no different. At least the woman felt bad for him and gave him an extra $30, but it didn’t really lighten his mood. 

He spent the entire morning and almost all afternoon hopping between houses and apartments, dragging himself across the city with an invisible rainy cloud above his head. 

_Man up, Blake. College isn’t gonna pay itself._

He just wanted to go home, honestly. It wasn’t his day, and that was okay. He still got the job done, but he was mentally and physically out of it. 

When he spotted his house at the end of the dirty road, he let out a deep sigh. He didn’t even care if Emori and Murphy were at it again. His bed was the only thing on his mind.

But everything quickly turned into a blur when he opened the door. 

“Bell!”, he recognised his sister’s voice, her head peeking through the hallway to look at him, “Guess who’s here?”

He took a wild guess, “Jackson.”

She made a weird face, “Yeah, actually,” she shook her head, “But guess who else?”

“I don’t know, man,” he sent his shoes flying across the hall. He couldn’t care less. He was too tired to function, and the disgusting smell coming from his armpits made him realise he really needed a shower, “Monty.”

“Not Monty,” Octavia smirked, “Come!”

Bellamy let out yet another deep sigh and followed his sister to the living room, ignoring the stinkyness that emanated from his t-shirt. And then, he felt as if the ceiling had collapsed on him. 

“Clarke?”

As he walked into the room, the world around him slowed down. She turned around from talking to Emori, her golden hair falling over her shoulders, her cheeks the colour of pink roses. Something must have been seriously wrong with him, because he felt his stomach drop and his throat become dry as a desert. 

“Hey, Bellamy,” her voice was soft, almost shy. Her eyes looked tired, and seemed weaker than usual. Not like he cared. 

“We invited her over after her shift at the gallery,” Octavia informed him, excitedly. Right, she was Lincoln’s co-worker, or something like that. 

“I see,” he nodded, trying to be polite. She was a potential client, after all, “Um, I’m going to head for the shower, if you don’t mind.”

Octavia groaned, “Okay,” she said, “But come back down here when you’re done!”

He wasted no time as he climbed up the stairs, and into the bathroom attached to his room. The water was freezing as he stepped in, but he thought it was probably for the best. His body was acting up. _Again_. 

He washed his hair and body as quickly as he could, and stepped out dripping wet. He scanned through his wardrobe and paid no mind to the clothes he chose. Clarke was downstairs, yes, but this was _his_ home. He’d walk out naked if he wanted to. Although that would probably not help the situation at all. 

When he came down again, they were all gathered in the kitchen area, talking lively. Jackson was there too, he noticed. It was a shame, really, because he really liked Miller’s boyfriend and he didn’t get to see him as often as he’d like. Being a doctor and all, he supposed it made sense. He was pretty much on duty every day. 

So he decided to make small talk with him, instead of directing his attention to Clarke. However, he couldn’t help but notice she fell naturally into the dynamics of the group. Murphy seemed to like her well enough, and he never liked anyone. Hell, he’d even hesitated to accept Jackson into the group, and he was one of the best guys he’d ever met.

Miller took out a bag of peanuts and some chips, and that’s when he knew Clarke wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Taking out the snacks was Miller’s silent way of saying he wanted everyone to stick around for longer. 

He wondered if she noticed he was ignoring her. She didn’t make any effort to approach him, anyways, so maybe she hadn’t noticed. Perhaps she didn’t even care. 

At some point, he made the mistake of looking at her. She was talking to Octavia and Emori, and hadn’t even noticed him. She was gesturing with her hands as she spoke, skin pale like porcelain. How could someone be so...white? It was a contrast with her eyes, he noticed, which were of a deep blue shade that didn’t look real.

She smiled and laughed and nodded, engaged in the conversation as if the world had disappeared around her. She took a step backwards that didn’t look deliberate in the slightest, and her lower back collided with the kitchen counter. He arched an eyebrow, completely ignoring whatever Jackson was telling him. 

Clarke suddenly took on a pale look, definitely paler than her usual skin tone. Her eyes were halfway closed, and he recognised way too easily what was happening. 

Before his feet could react, she stumbled backwards again, and collapsed. Octavia and Emori were quick to grab her and prevent her from falling, but she was unconscious, “Clarke!”, his sister’s voice made everyone turn around to look at them. 

Bellamy immediately ran to their side, pushing both girls away, and pulling her into his arms, “Jackson!”, he called out, heart racing. No one had ever collapsed like that in front of him before. She looked so out of it, so gone. 

Jackson hurried to his side, “Lie her down. Yeah, like that,” Bellamy secured her head on his hands, as both men lowered her to the cold, tiled floor of the kitchen, “I’m going to hold her legs up, okay?”, he explained calmly, his doctor side coming out immediately. 

Bellamy could only nod. He was freaking out. He could feel his heart beating on his throat, and he couldn’t look away from her pale, lifeless face. Her eyelids weren’t moving. 

“Is she okay?”, Octavia asked, eyes full of worry. 

Jackson still looked calm as he spoke, “I’m pretty sure she just fainted from exhaustion,” he said, looking right at Bellamy, “She told us she was sick when she came earlier.”

“Okay,” he nodded, trying to calm himself down. It made sense. She was sick, tired, and her body gave out. She hadn’t hit anything when she fell, so she’d be alright. Right?

“When will she wake up?”, he asked Jackson, who was still holding her legs up. 

“Probably in a couple of minutes,” he said.

Sure enough, Clarke’s eyelids started moving ever so slightly after a couple of seconds, and his heart started racing again. She hummed, and fluttered her eyes open just a little, “B-Bellamy?”, her voice was weak, and his stomach dropped. 

He gulped, “It’s me, Clarke, I’m right here.”

The sigh that escaped his lips was soft - it was as if a tension had lifted from his shoulders, and relief was all that remained. 

She tried to lift her weight, and Bellamy’s hands went immediately to the back of her head to push her up. She managed to sit down on her own, yet his hand rested on her back as an anchor. 

“What happened?”, she asked, voice small and weak. 

“You fainted,” Jackson gave her a tender smile, “It’s okay. I believe it was due to exhaustion.”

She nodded, “Makes sense.”

But her skin still looked paler than usual, and she seemed to have trouble keeping her eyes open. Fearful thoughts looped around in his mind until there was no room for anything else. He looked at Jackson as he spoke, “I’m taking her to the hospital.” 

“Bell,” Octavia’s tone was almost a warning. 

He shook his head, “I need to make sure she’s alright. What if it happens again? What if it’s deeper than exhaustion?”

“Relax, man,” Miller said, “Jackson is a doctor.”

“No, it’s fine,” the man assured them, “You can get a blood test run, just to make sure.”

Bellamy nodded, and noticed Clarke hadn’t even said a word. He looked at her, and saw that her eyes were closed, “Clarke?”, he started freaking out again, “Clarke, can you hear me?”

She hummed, and threw her head back until it rested on his shoulder blades. _Fuck_. 

“Okay, I’m taking her to the hospital,” he decided, “Help me take her to the car.”

Clarke was only partly conscious as he drove to the Emergency wing of Arkadia’s General Hospital, and his worry only became worse as the minutes passed. What if she fainted again while on the road? What would he do?

He looked over at her still form as he stopped at a red light. Her blonde hair was all over her face, and she was breathing softly, “Clarke,” he whispered, and hesitated before placing his hand on her thigh, shaking her slowly.

“Mm,” she hummed, and turned around on her seat. She looked at him with tired eyes, behind her long lashes, and he swore his heart broke a little at the sight of her.

“We’re almost there, okay?”, he drew his hand out when the light turned green, “You’ll be alright.”

She didn’t say anything else, but luckily for him she had regained some of her strength back when he parked the car. She assured him that she could walk to the Emergency room, but when her legs gave out shortly after stepping out of the vehicule, he easily picked her up bridal style and hurried inside.

The hospital corridor was stuffy, and the air had an undertone of bleach to it. The walls were painted in a pale, ugly green and the seats were plushed. At the desk, an old woman was staring at him with dull eyes behind her red glasses.

“How can I help you?”, she asked him, voice equally as dull. 

“She fainted,” he said, “And she’s still kind of out of it.”

The woman nodded, and typed something on her computer, “Name?”

“Clarke.”

Silence. She looked at him with bored, tired eyes, and let out a deep sigh as she spoke again, “Clarke _what_?”

_Shit_. What the hell was her last name? Would it be weird to say ‘I don’t know’? It certainly wouldn’t be of any help. 

“Griffin,” another, weaker voice said. He looked down between his arms, and noticed that Clarke was partially awake and talking to the nurse. 

The woman then handed her a paper bracelet, “A doctor will see you as soon as possible.” 

Bellamy set her down in one of the plushy chairs, and she immediately closed her eyes again and put her head on his shoulders. He let her. She looked exhausted, and his palms started sweating. 

What if it was worse than Jackson thought? What if it wasn’t just a timely thing? He had always perceived hospitals as places of caring and compassion, places to recover and be doted upon by dedicated professionals. But what if they couldn’t do anything for her? 

What would he do?

Octavia texted him a thumbs up, and told him to keep her posted. But he couldn’t even hold himself together. Clarke looked so calm besides him, and he was a fucking mess.

And what for, anyways? She was nothing to him. He shouldn’t be feeling so devastated over this. 

“Clarke Griffin,” a young woman called out from one of the rooms, a welcoming smile on her face. 

Bellamy stood up nervously, wiped the sweat off his palms on his jeans, and kneeled in front of her, “Clarke,” he spoke, softly, “A doctor will see you now, okay? Can you walk?”

Her eyes opened as she heard his voice, and she nodded. He helped her up, anyways, and wrapped an arm around her waist as they both walked inside the room.

“What do we have here?”, the woman smiled. He eyed Clarke, who still looked weak, so he decided to speak for her. 

“She fainted like, half an hour ago,” he explained, “But she’s still feeling weak.”

The doctor nodded, and went to scan Clarke’s features, “Okay, Clarke,” she said in a gentle voice, “Did you hit something as you fell?”

“No,” she managed to let out. 

“Alright, that’s good.”

“She, um,” Bellamy scratched the back of his neck, “She’s been sick for the last couple of days, too. One of our friends is a doctor and he said she could’ve passed out from exhaustion.”

She nodded, “Seems like your friend was right,” she said after examining her further, “I see nothing concerning. She’s just exhausted right now,” she looked at Bellamy, “Are you her boyfriend?”

His heart jumped, and he could feel the heat rising up to his cheeks, “No, um,” he didn’t know what title to go for, “I’m a friend,” he settled for. He was nowhere near being her friend, but whatever. He wasn’t about to explain his life story to a random doctor. 

“Well, she needs to rest at least today and tomorrow,” she wrote something on a piece of paper, “No activities of any kind, mental or physical. She can read, watch TV-”

“Paint?”

“That, too,” she smiled, “But nothing that would require much effort. She should be alright by the weekend. Here,” she handed him a prescription, “She should take this every 12 hours. It’ll help her recover faster.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, and when he looked at Clarke, the color had returned to her face. She looked more awake now, but equally as tired, “Let’s go home, okay?”

“Just one more thing,” the woman clicked her pencil a couple of times under Bellamy’s worried gaze, “It’s unlikely, but bring her in as soon as possible if she faints again or if she isn’t feeling stronger in a couple of days. It may be something else.”

“Something else?”

She hummed, “She could be pregnant.”

Clarke shifted under his arm, “I’m definitely not pregnant,” she said, her tone almost bitter. 

Bellamy arched an eyebrow, “It’s unlikely,” the doctor smiled softly at her, “But we may have to run a few blood tests if you don’t get better.”

“She will,” Bellamy assured, more to himself than to the doctor, “Thank you.”

She could stand on both feet once they left the doctor’s room, but he still kept an arm around her for good measure. Neither of them spoke as they made their way through the long corridor, and out of the Emergency wing. 

Just as they were about to walk through the crystal door, he heard hurried steps behind them, “Clarke!”, a female, rushed voice called. 

They both turned around, and saw a tall, slim woman wearing a doctor grown. Her brown hair was put back on a long ponytail, and the worry in her features mimicked Bellamy’s from earlier. 

“Mom,” Clarke hugged the woman, who then proceeded to inspect every inch of her face, “I’m fine, mom.”

“You’re not fine if you’re here, Clarke,” she shook her head, “What happened?”

“I fainted. I’m sick and...yeah. I overworked myself, I guess.”

“Oh, Clarke,” she pulled her daughter into a tight hug again, and Bellamy felt awkward just standing there, “You need to take care of yourself, dear.”

“I know,” she murmured.

The woman’s eyes scanned her daughter’s face again, then travelled to him. She gave him a small smile, “Did you bring her in?”, she asked. 

“Y-Yeah,” he stuttered, and immediately extended his hand for her to shake it, “Bellamy Blake.”

The woman let go of her daughter, carefully wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and shook his hand firmly, “Nice to meet you, Bellamy. I’m Clarke’s mom, Abby,” she smiled, “Thank you for bringing her here.”

So. This was the woman whose fault it was that Clarke was a privileged little brat. Um. She looked nice enough. And she was a doctor, something he wasn’t expecting. He thought her parents would be senators or politicians, for some reason. That would’ve made him hate her even more, probably. 

“No problem,” he said, politely. 

Abby turned her attention back to her daughter, “You go home and rest, Clarke,” she said, “I’ll pass by when my shift ends.”

The blonde shook her head, “It’s okay, mom,” she reassured her, but the woman didn’t seem to be listening. 

“I’ll call you dad, too.”

“ _Mom_ ,” she hissed, “I’m not dying, jeez. I just need to sleep.”

Abby stayed quiet, and nodded in understanding. She then looked at him again, “Bellamy, could you take her home, please?”

“Of course,” that’s where he was going to take her, anyways. 

“Thank you, dear,” she squeezed Clarke’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head, “Take care of yourself, please, Clarke.”

She kissed her mother goodbye, and Bellamy immediately wrapped his arm around her again. She was already feeling stronger, but he wasn’t going to risk her falling again and hurting her head. 

The ride back to Palace was quiet, just like he expected. Clarke was awake this time, looking out of the window as other cars passed by. He had only been at her apartment once, but he had memorised the route there. 

It was late in the evening, and the streets around them had a weird stillness to them. The sky had acquired a welcoming amber glow, and he thought that at least it wasn’t pouring rain. 

“Bellamy?”, she asked, voice almost a whisper. 

He hummed in response. The sun dipped lower in the sky until the trees that lined the lane stood as black shadows against the darkening sky.

“Thank you,” she said, and it took him by surprise. She cleared her throat, “For taking care of me today.”

Was that what he had done? Had he really...taken care of her? It had felt like an instinct to him, like a chore. She needed medical attention, and he felt he was capable enough to provide it to her. Or, at least, take her to the place where said medical attention was. Very much like with Octavia, he felt like it was a responsibility. A responsibility to provide for.

But he wasn’t taking care of her. He’d have to _care_ about her, first. 

“No problem,” he said, simply, eyes never leaving the road.

The road was like a smooth black river, he thought, the wheels floating so effortlessly along. The buildings around them started getting more modern and fancier as they approached their destination and, soon enough, Palace came into view. 

Bellamy felt like he was driving a horse carriage instead of a truck, taking the Princess back home. A Princess that could barely stand on her feet. 

He parked in front of the door, and hurried to the passenger's seat to help her out. 

“I can go upstairs by myself,” she muttered, as she struggled to climb down the high seat of his truck. 

He half-laughed, “I don’t think so, Princess.”

His heart stopped the moment he realised what he’d said, and a lump formed on his throat. It’d been an accident, a nickname that should’ve stayed within the safe walls of his brain. Something he could call her behind her back, use to make fun of her even. But now it had slipped out. 

“Princess, huh?,” she smirked, and her voice sounded teasing even in her poor state. 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he teased back, and locked the truck behind him. He wrapped an arm around her form again, helping her towards the elevator. 

She pushed the button to the sixth floor, and awkward silence flooded the small space for a second, “You didn’t have to come all the way up here.”

Bellamy arched an eyebrow, “And let you faint again out here? I don’t think so.”

He caught her biting the inside of her cheek from the elevator mirror, but he looked away. 

“You don’t even like me that much.”

He stayed silent. The elevator doors opened, and he helped her across the ridiculously wide lobby and to her apartment. She struggled to take the keys out of her bag. 

“You’re not even trying to deny it,” she chuckled as she finally got the keys out. 

He only hummed in response, and released her as she entered her apartment.

“Want to make sure I get into bed as well?”, she smirked. 

Why the fuck was he feeling nervous all of a sudden?

“I’ll trust you with that one,” he said, expression unreadable. 

“Alright,” her face had regained its natural colour again, and she looked much healthier already, “Thanks for everything, Bellamy. I know it was a pain in the ass.”

That was one way of describing it. 

“No problem,” he put his hands on his pockets, fingers fidgeting with his car keys, “Make sure it doesn’t happen again, though.”

“Will do,” she smiled, “Bye, Bellamy.”

“See you, Clarke.”

She closed the door softly behind her, and he let out a heavy sigh he didn’t know he was holding. His shoulders started burning from the tension of the day, and he headed down for the car as he texted Octavia with updates. 

His head was spinning with the events of that afternoon. Why the hell had he freaked out so damn much when she passed out? Why did he feel so distraught when she looked so sick?

He ran a hand through his tired face and climbed back into the car. That would be a problem for the Bellamy of tomorrow. For now, he only wanted to get home and push the thought of Clarke Griffin out of his fucking mind. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments and kudos in this story 😊 I hope you enjoy what’s to come!
> 
> Also, shit hits the fan in this one. Happy reading!

Clarke woke up early the next morning, head still pounding. She wasn’t feeling all that bad anymore, but she was still weak. She dragged herself out of her bed, and shivered as her tired feet touched the frozen floor, the covers no longer shielding her from the cold. 

The water was boiling as she let it fall over her body. The previous afternoon had been...eventful. She had checked her phone before falling asleep a few hours ago, texts from Octavia flooding her screen. She assured her that she was alright, that she was feeling better. But she still had texted her in the morning, asking her how she was feeling. 

Her shower probably lasted longer than it should have, but whatever. The doctor (and her mom) had been quite clear about it. She just had to rest, and that was it. She sighed. It was going to get boring as hell. She thought that perhaps she should text her friends, tell them what had happened. Wells would probably freak out and run all the way to her apartment right away.

Just as she was about to take the orange juice from her fridge and drink straight from it (because glasses were overrated, apparently), her bell rang.

She frowned, and glanced at the time on her phone. It was barely 9 am. Who the hell was knocking at her door at 9 am?

She wrapped her robe tightly around her body and headed for the door. When she checked who it was, a big smile suddenly drew on her lips. She swung the door open. 

“How’s my favourite girl in the entire world feeling?”

“Dad!”, Clarke launched herself into Jake Griffin’s arms, who didn’t hesitate to carefully wrap her in a tight embrace, “What are you doing here?”

She let go slowly and saw that he was carrying two grocery bags on his hand, “Mom told me what happened yesterday,” he said, taking his shoes off as he entered the apartment, “I came to see you, champ.”

Clarke arched an amused eyebrow, “What about work?”

“Took the morning off,” Jake walked into the kitchen and set his bags down on the counter, “Plus, I know you’re too lazy to cook, and you won’t get better if you don’t eat, so Dad came to the rescue.”

The blonde laughed, because it was embarrassingly true, and then proceeded to scan the groceries. When she identified the ingredients, she almost wanted to cry, “Lasagna and ratatouille?”

“Comfort meals,” he smiled, and went to turn the oven on. God, she couldn’t believe this man. 

“I’m feeling much better, you know,” she climbed up one of the bar stools and watched as her dad made all the preparations, a soft smile on her lips, “You didn’t have to come all the way from Polis to cook.”

Her parents lived in a bigger city, almost an hour away from Arkadia. Her mother did work at Arkadia’s General Hospital, but her dad didn’t. His engineering company was in downtown Polis, and she couldn’t believe he had come all the way to her apartment to see her during the week. 

Jake rolled his eyes, “I didn’t come here  _ just _ to cook,” he smirked, “I wanted to see with my own eyes how you were feeling and, you know, catch up with my favourite daughter.”

Clarke chuckled, “And your only one, I hope.”

“Oh yeah,” he teased, “Believe me, one like you is more than enough.”

She laughed, and jumped from her seat to wrap her arms around her dad’s torso. She had missed him. Jake Griffin was her favourite human in the entire planet, that was no secret. She loved her mom, of course, but people always used to tease her saying that she was totally a Daddy’s girl. Whatever. She was. How couldn’t she? 

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he spoke calmly as he chopped some vegetables, “Why did you faint?”

“Exhaustion,” she said, “I was sick and I overworked myself, I guess.”

Jake sighed, “Just like your mom, huh?” He half-chuckled, “You need to take a break every now and then, Clarke.”

“I know, Dad,” she unwrapped herself from him and went back to her seat on the stool, “I promise I’ve learnt the lesson.”

“Good,” he smiled. They stayed silent for a while, Clarke watching him carefully as he cooked. His dad was the best chef in the entire world, and she’d missed his meals like crazy since she moved out. She supposed not everything about fainting was awful after all, if he was there now.

“So,” Jake started again, a hint of a smile in his voice, “Your mom told me a young man took you to the hospital last night.”

Clarke thanked her Dad had his back turned to her, because she was pretty sure her cheeks had turned bright red at that moment. She wanted to believe that her nervous state had nothing to do with Bellamy, and everything with her Dad hinting at a possible boyfriend, or something. It definitely wasn’t about Bellamy.    
  


Jake wasn’t like one of those overprotective dads she loathed so much, because their possessive streaks always happened to come out with their daughters only. That was some internalised misogynistic shit she totally wouldn’t put up with. But luckily for her, he was pretty laid back about the whole thing, and instead teased her about it. He saw it as a joke, as a way to make his daughter embarrassed. But Clarke knew she could talk about anything with him, boy or girl related, and she couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“Um, yeah,” she tried playing it cool, “Bellamy.”

Jake didn’t turn around, “Bellamy, huh?”, his voice was still teasing, and Clarke wanted the ground to swallow her, “You’ve never mentioned him before.”

“He’s kind of a new friend,” she was pretty sure Bellamy and her were nowhere near the friend mark, but she wasn’t in the mood to explain everything, “He’s Octavia’s brother. I’ve talked about Octavia.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember Octavia,” he said, his ratatouille ready to be put in the oven, “You have to introduce me to all these new friends someday.”

“I will,” she was pretty sure they’d get along, anyway. Wells and Raven loved him, and he pretty much acted like a second father to them as well, so she knew he’d have no trouble getting along with her new group of friends. Jake was a friendly man, after all. But perhaps he wouldn’t introduce him to Bellamy. She’d rather leave him out of the equation.

Jake stayed until lunchtime, cleaning her apartment and making sure her fridge was full. He had brought medicines as well, courtesy of Abby, and Clarke almost whined. She  _ loathed _ taking pills and whatnot. But she’d never been one to disobey her Dad, so she did as she was told.

When he left, leaving a bittersweet taste on her mouth, she went back to bed and took a long, much needed nap. She stayed at home for two more days, making sure she emailed all their professors and replied to everyone’s texts. Raven, Wells and Niylah came over to her apartment on the second day, and spent all afternoon watching Netflix in her living room and gossiping about Well’s new relationship, much to his despair. 

Octavia didn’t stop texting her, either. She kept asking her how she was feeling, and invited her over once she was back at it again. Clarke smiled every time she read her concerned texts. It was obvious that the girl had a big heart, way too big to keep it caged on her chest. Too bad it didn’t run in the family. 

By the weekend, she was feeling brand new. Her mother’s medicine had worked wonders, because she no longer had a cold, either. Octavia invited her over to The Dropship, the bar she worked at, and told her to bring some friends. Clarke knew she wasn’t going to drink a single drop of alcohol that night, but she agreed anyways. She hadn’t left the house in too long. It’d do good to socialise and see other surroundings. 

Raven and Niylah agreed to go with her, and the three of them drove to The Dropship at 8 pm, that Saturday night. It was packed. 

“Over here!”, Octavia greeted her from behind the counter the second they stepped inside. She was waving eagerly at them, a big smile plastered on her face. 

Clarke led her friends towards the girl, who immediately wrapped her into an awkward hug from the other side of the counter, “I’m so glad you’re here, Clarke,” she smiled, “You’re feeling better, right?”

She nodded, “Good as new,” she half-laughed, then noticed Emori and Murphy besides her, “Hi,” she smiled at them. 

Murphy raised his glass in the air to salute her, “Dishwasher girl,” he grinned, “Don’t faint on us again.”

Clarke rolled her eyes carefully, “I wasn’t planning to.”

“It was scary as hell,” Emori agreed. 

“What’s up, people?”, Raven’s voice echoed behind her.

“Um,” Clarke gestured to the two girls behind her, “Niylah, Raven, these are Emori and Murphy. And Octavia behind the counter.”

“Nice to meet you,” Octavia smiled, “Want anything to drink?”

They moved to a table in one of the booths, drinks in hand, and Clarke’s glass of water. The bar was flooded with hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the rock music that dominated the atmosphere. The crowd was young, students from the university for the most part, even though The Dropship wasn’t necessarily close to campus. 

It was uneventful for a while. Raven and Niylah seemed to get along with Murphy and Emori just fine. Monty and Jasper (she’d finally learned his name) joined them a while later, jumping easily into the conversation as if they’d been there for the past hour. She felt a strange feeling of comfort creeping in, almost as if she had known these people for years and not just a few months.

And it was weird, in a way, because she had never belonged in a big group of friends before. Wells was her only friend for a while, and she was okay with that. Then Raven came into the picture the first year she started university, and her car broke down at the most inappropriate time on campus. The brunette happened to walk by, and offered to take a look at the vehicle. Half an hour later, it was impressively fixed. Clarke didn’t know how to thank her, so she invited her to a coffee. Their friendship rolled easily after that. 

Her relationship with Niylah had been a bit more complicated. She’d hooked up with her after Lexa broke her heart. They had a good time, but ultimately agreed that they wouldn’t work out. Not like  _ that _ . And it was fine, really, because Niylah was one hell of a fun girl to be around, and they got along just fine. It didn’t feel weird at all to call her a friend now. 

So, it was comfortable but uneventful for a while, until it wasn’t. 

She saw him leaned on the counter, sitting on one of the saggy stools, a tall beer on one side, some peanuts on the other. He was alone. Octavia was somewhere behind the counter taking orders, and the other bartender she’d seen earlier was nowhere to be found. 

She hesitated. She shouldn’t even be thinking about going up to him. It was clear as day that he didn’t like her, and wouldn’t want to see her. Hell, he was probably all alone at the counter because she was there with the rest of his friends. 

It was a mistake, most likely, but she didn’t care. She muttered an ‘I’ll be right back’ to Raven and straightened out her dress as she walked towards where he was sitting. His wide back was turned to her, and she thought about just turning away and leaving, but she didn’t. 

“Hey,” she leaned on the counter next to him, but she didn’t sit down.

Bellamy didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed somewhere across the counter, far away. His hair was messy and wet, and he smelled like fresh mint and some manly, strong deodorant. 

She immediately regretted going up to him. What did she want to achieve, anyways? It was obvious that he didn’t want to talk to her, and she shouldn’t push it. Not everyone had to like her. Not everyone had to be her friend. She was well aware of that. So why was she feeling almost...sad about this?

She was about to go back to the booth, defeated and embarrassed, when he spoke, “I see you’re feeling better.”

There was no emotion in his voice, but at least it was something. She watched him carefully as he took a sip of his beer, her throat dry, “I am,” she cleared her voice, “Thank you, again.”

“Told you it was nothing,” he still refused to meet her eyes. What the hell was this guy’s problem? She might not be a friend, alright, but she still was a potential client. A  _ classmate _ . She’d expected at least some eye contact, “You want something?”

She gulped. Right. Clarke wasn’t stupid. She knew when she wasn’t welcome somewhere, and she wasn’t going to keep trying for a stupid-

“Bellamy?”, a female voice asked behind them. 

Clarke turned around, confused, and watched from the corner of her eye as Bellamy tensed on his seat.

“Gina,” he spoke, voice almost bored, but with a hint of surprise. 

The girl in front of them was tall, slim, light curly hair. The smile on her face was big, even if a tad too forced, and she was definitely dressed to impress. She recognised the dress - something too expensive and too not-her-style her mother had insisted on buying her once. It was a contrast with the rest of the crowd at The Dropship, who probably had been one minute away from coming here in their pajamas. 

“How are you doing, Bellamy?”, she asked in a lively voice, completely ignoring her presence, “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“That’s kind of what happens when you move away.”

The girl chuckled, but Clarke thought it wasn’t funny. Clearly, Bellamy had sounded almost hurt while saying that. She wondered who that Gina persona was. An ex-hookup, probably. 

She leaned on the counter as well, stealing a couple of peanuts from his tray, “Don’t tell me you’re still bitter about that.”

Clarke swore she heard Bellamy curse under his breath, “I wouldn’t call it bitter,” he said. He wasn’t looking at her, either. She probably should leave, she thought, as it was clearly a tense and private conversation. But she was frozen into place.

“Well,” Gina swung her hair over her shoulders, as if trying to grab his attention, “I’ve been doing just fine, in case you were wondering. Azgeda’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

_ Shit _ . Azgeda’s Institute of Technology was one of the most prestigious universities in the state - no, in the  _ country _ . Her mother would’ve definitely pestered her about going if she had followed her father’s footsteps. Gina was probably super smart, she thought.

“Glad you're enjoying it,” Bellamy took another sip.

Gina noticed her then, but only gave her a small smile. She smiled back. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to make conversation with her (hell, she was probably super cool if she went to Azgeda), but it was obvious that Bellamy wanted the whole thing to end, so she chose not to make things worse. Although he probably deserved it, if she was being honest. 

“It was nice to see you, Bellamy,” she said, a disappointed look on her eyes, and squeezed his arm before going away again, disappearing into the crowd. 

An awkward silence set around them after Gina left. She didn’t know whether he’d want to leave, ignore it, or talk about it. Although he wouldn’t want to talk about it  _ with her _ , so.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, and for a second she thought she had imagined his voice. 

“That’s okay,” she said, truthfully, and caught Octavia’s eye at the other side of the counter, “Who’s she?”

Bellamy visibly tensed, and he started shifting on his seat. She almost regretted asking. She was being too nosey - they weren’t friends. 

“No one,” he settled for, making her raise an eyebrow.

“You didn’t look too happy to see her.”

He let out a deep sigh, and rubbed his eyes with his calloused fingers. He looked pissed off, “Listen, Clarke,” his voice was deep, almost angry, “We’re not friends. I don’t have to tell you any of this.”

Clarke crossed her arms, defensively, “And why aren’t we friends, exactly? I have been nothing but nice to you.”

He chuckled dryly, “I’m not interested in being friends with people like you.”

“People  _ like me _ ?”, she raised her voice, but doubted anyone would even notice with the loud music playing. She was getting pissed off, “What does that even mean?”

Now he was looking at her. His dark, hooded eyes looked tired, and angry, and she felt as if they were piercing into her soul. It was intimidating, “Why are you friends with Octavia?”

That caught her off guard. What the hell did that have to do with anything?, “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

“But I don’t get it,” she let out a desperate sigh, “I’m friends with your sister because she’s Lincoln’s girlfriend, and I like him. When I met her, I liked her too. She has a big heart,” she paused, “Something you obviously lack.”

“Right,” he chuckled, and took another sip, longer than the previous ones, “Now there’s two of us.”

She arched an eyebrow, “You don’t know me,” she spat, her blood boiling, “You’re in no place to judge.”

“I know too many people like you,” and there it was again. People like her?, “I know exactly how it goes.”

“Whatever, Bellamy,” she rolled her eyes, and prepared to leave, “You don’t know shit.”

“Not too sure about that one, Princess,” he smirked, “I’m quite older than you, I do know shit. And I also know I shouldn’t be talking to a fucking brat about this.”

“A fucking brat,” she repeated, “So that’s who I am to you.”

“That’s who you are,” he took a bill out, and slid it on the counter, “Period.”

Something clicked on Clarke’s mind.  _ A fucking brat _ .  _ People like you _ . Could it be…?

“So you don’t like me because I have money,” she stated. 

“That’s one way to put it.”

“You’re unbelievable, Bellamy,” she huffed, “Not everyone who has money is a fucking dick. Is that what Gina is to you, too? A privileged brat?”

“Among other things.”

“You know what?”, she took a step back abruptly, a furious look on her face, but her voice remained awfully calm, “You’re a fucking moron. I can’t believe you’re even related to Octavia,” she gave him one last look, “You don’t deserve her.”

She stormed out of the bar, not even bothering to go to her friends. He had shouted something after that, but she didn’t listen. It was probably nothing that she wanted to hear, anyway. 

The cold night air hit her face the moment she stepped out in the street, but she didn’t care. She was going to walk home and away from that fucking ass. And to think she’d once thought he was hot, nice even, when he took her to the hospital and worried about her like that.  _ Disgusting _ . That’s what he was, one hundred percent disgusting.

Bellamy Blake was a despicable human being. And she wanted nothing to do with him. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!

“You’re so fucking stupid, Bellamy.”

He groaned for the fifth time since they’d gotten in the damn car, and his grip on the wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. He didn’t need to be hearing this. Any of it. 

“I kind of agree with your sister there,” Murphy said from the backseat. 

He didn’t answer, but Octavia continued, “She didn’t deserve any of that, you moron. She’s one of the nicest girls I’ve ever met and okay, fine, she might have money, but that doesn’t make her some kind of asswipe. You, on the other hand-”

“ _ Enough _ ,” his voice was low, angry. He thought about stopping the car right there and walking back to his house, but that would probably just make things worse. 

Bellamy just wanted the conversation to end. He’d had enough. He’d said enough. But he knew his sister - she wasn’t going to shut up. 

“I saw Gina earlier, you know,” her voice was accusing now, and he wasn’t looking at her, but he knew she had her arms crossed, and was pissed, “And I connected the dots. Let me tell you, big brother, that you’re  _ pathetic _ .”

Emori raised her eyebrows in surprise, “Gina? Isn’t that-?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” he muttered behind the wheel, “Can we drop it now?”

“No, we are not dropping it, Bellamy,” Octavia turned around on the passenger seat to look directly at him. Her stare was burning his skin, “Clarke is nothing like her.”

“Did you forget what she did to you, too, huh? Is that it?”, he knew he probably shouldn’t talk so harshly to his little sister, but whatever. His blood was boiling, and he’d had enough. 

Octavia stayed quiet for a few seconds, but she finally shook her head, “I didn’t forget,” she said in a calmer voice, “But I also know better than to judge people before getting to know them.”

And perhaps she was actually making sense, but he was seeing red. He dropped Octavia at her apartment, then drove in silence with Murphy and Emori to theirs. They didn’t bother to make conversation, to pretend everything was okay, and he didn’t push it, either. 

For the next couple of days, Bellamy actually felt bad. 

He had never snapped at anyone like that, not for nothing. Because now that he’d thought it through, Clarke hadn’t actually said anything to upset him. Anything offensive or bratty. She just...existed around him. She had cared for his sister when he hadn’t been around (those stupid fuckers Jasper and Monty couldn’t be trusted), and she had let him see her at her weakest when she was feeling sick. 

When she collapsed in his kitchen, it had been one of the most frightening and stressful moments of his life. Not liking the girl was one thing, but not taking care of her at a moment like that would’ve been the lowest of lows. Even for him. 

And then, the whole Gina scenario had made things much worse. He hadn’t seen her in like, what, two years? That was a long time. Too long. It became too much to handle, and he just snapped. At her. When she (probably) didn’t deserve it. 

Now, three days after the fiasco, he came to the conclusion that Octavia had been right all along.  _ Fucking great _ . 

The sky was cloudy, the air oddly warm as he leaned impatiently against the wall. He kicked a rock with his foot, and sent it flying all the way over to the wet grass. Five more minutes. Just five more minutes. 

In five minutes, he’d find out if he’d made a terrible mistake. 

Students started leaving the building soon after that, and a few of them sent curious glances his way. He suddenly got self-conscious. He looked way older than them, especially since he hadn’t shaved, and they probably thought he was some kind of creep waiting for a girl to come out of class. Which he was, in a way. 

A glimpse of golden hair caught his eye some moments, and he hurried towards her before he could even process what he was about to do, and leave. He had to convince himself several times that he didn’t want that. That staying and fixing things was the right thing to do. 

“Clarke!”

She turned around abruptly, visibly shaken, and her blue eyes widened at the sight of him, “B-Bellamy?”

“Sorry for scaring you,” and he meant that. He caught her scanning his unshaved face, “I just wanted to talk to you for a second, if that’s alright.”

“Um, sure,” she walked besides him, probably waiting for him to lead them somewhere, but he had no destination in mind. He stopped abruptly then, earning a confused look from her. 

“Look, um,” his hand went to scratch the back of his neck. Apologising had never been his forte, and he didn’t recall feeling this nervous before, “I’m sorry I’ve been a total ass to you. You did nothing wrong, and I… Perhaps I’m the brat, after all.”

“ _ Perhaps _ ?,” she teased, her eyebrow arched. 

He gave her a small smile, “Okay, I’m  _ definitely _ the brat.”

“It’s okay, Bellamy,” she let out a tired sigh, “I just… I just don’t understand why you’ve made such assumptions about me. You haven’t even bothered to get to know me.”

“I know,” he looked around nervously. He couldn’t look at her in the eyes. They were too blue, “And I’m sorry for that. Truly.”

She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, “Told you it’s fine,” her eyes looked tired, and so did the smile that appeared on her lips. Bellamy thought it was a bit forced, too. 

He should probably give her an explanation. Would that make things better between them? Did he even  _ want _ things to be better? His mind was still a tornado of confusing and entangled thoughts.

So he didn’t think it through that much when he opened his mouth again, “Are you doing anything like...now?”

Clarke arched a confused eyebrow, and the grip on her bag tensed. He shouldn’t have said anything. What the hell was he thinking?

“Um, not really,” her tone was a mix between confusion and shyness, “W-Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to um, come over to our house for a bit,” he tried to sound nonchalant, but he knew he was failing miserably at it, “Octavia is there right now, too,” he added quickly. He had specifically asked her to be, just in case. 

He didn’t want her to think that he wanted to spend time alone with her. God, no. The hatred he felt for her might have toned down a bit, but definitely not that much. His invitation was a mere act of rekindling, of apologising

She sounded hesitant as she spoke, “Sure, I could do that.”

A heavy silence settled over them, thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere, as they made their way towards his truck. His eyes glanced unceremoniously around and tried to avoid any type of eye contact. Probably not the best start. 

There was silence as well as he drove them to his house. His mouth was almost too dry to speak, and he didn’t know if she’d want to make conversation with him, anyway. 

She was sitting on the passenger seat with her legs crossed, tapping the surface of her black bag with her nails. It would’ve driven him crazy before, but for some reason it only felt like white noise now. To his surprise, it didn’t feel awkward. Not as much as he’d expected, at least. 

His house was quiet when they arrived, which only made his nervous state worsen. Where the hell was everyone?

“Miller!”, he called out as he walked into the living room. Empty, “Murphy?”

But his bedroom door was open, which it never was, and it was rather obvious that the house was deserted.  _ Fucking great. _

Clarke stood awkwardly behind him, arms crossed over her chest as a shield. Her voice cracked as she spoke, “I can, um, I can leave if you want.”

“No, no,” he hurried to say, “It’s fine. I’ll text them now.”

He wanted to make things right with her, really, but the situation was pissing him off. Where the hell were his roommates? Murphy barely left the house, yet now he was nowhere to be seen. And Octavia? He had been pretty damn clear about how he wanted her to be there when Clarke came.  _ If _ she came. 

He took his phone out and sent a message to the group chat, “Okay, so, um,” he clapped his hands together awkwardly, and immediately regretted it, “Let’s...do you like video games?” 

_ Please say yes, please say yes.  _

“I suck pretty badly at like, 99% of them,” she said, “But sure, which ones do you have?”

He visibly relaxed, and sat on the couch next to her to scan their options. He guessed she was comfortable as well, as she actually engaged in conversation with him and even teased him at some point. Perhaps she’d been this nice all along, Bellamy thought. Perhaps he’d been too fucking dumb to see it. 

They finally settled on The Escapists 2 on mutual agreement, surprisingly, and relocated to the floor to play, arms touching every now and then. 

It was in the way they seemed to work well together. When they managed to escape from three prisons in less than an hour, he started to think that maybe Clarke Griffin wasn’t that bad. She certainly didn’t look like a brat anymore, even if she was privileged. But she couldn’t really help that, could she?

It was the giggles that left her lips when his character was caught by the prison guards, the laughter, the smiles. Even if they lost and had to start again, her excitement never wore off. They saw the funny in everything, he noticed, and that was a bond he certainly hadn’t seen coming. In those silly moments, he allowed himself to forget why he had compared her to Gina in the first place. 

“So,” she leaned back into the foot of the couch, an easy smile on her lips, “We make a pretty good team.”

“Surprisingly,” he teased, but he was smiling as well. 

She put her controller down, “I’m glad you invited me over today. I’m having fun.”

“How unexpected, huh?”, he half-laughed, “Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake, having a good time together.”

“In my defence,” she smirked, “I wasn’t the one making things so difficult.”

He leaned back on the couch next to her, “I’m sorry,” his voice acquired a serious undertone to it, “I thought you were different.”

She nodded, “Can I ask why?”

A small sigh escaped from his lips, “I know this doesn’t leave me in the best of places,” he scratched the back of his neck, “But I kept comparing you to someone I knew and, yeah. I thought you were like that.”

“Gina?”

He hummed, “She was… She was my ex-girlfriend,” a pause, and then, “She left us. Octavia and I. They were really close, too. She left us to go to this big, fancy university and just...didn’t look back.”

He debated whether to continue. Well, the cat was out of the bag now, right? He had nothing to lose. 

“She could’ve left it at that, and I would’ve understood and, I don’t know. Maybe we would’ve had a long distance relationship or whatever,” he explained. 

He felt Clarke’s piercing eyes on him, attentive, “But she didn’t. I got upset about her leaving — she only told me like, a couple of days before she planned to move. And it was too much. I was shocked, and confused. We had this big argument, and she…,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “She said it wasn’t her fault we were poor.”

“ _ What _ ?”

He didn’t dare to look at her in the eye, “She said I only held her back,” he shrugged, “Because she had all these opportunities at her fingertips and being with me… Yeah, I guess us being poor was an inconvenience to her.”

“Bellamy, what the fuck?”

“I know,” he half-laughed, “Anyways. I was too hurt and assumed that everyone with money was a dick. You included. So, again, I’m sorry.”

Clarke shook her head in disbelief, “Bellamy, I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he looked at her now, and noticed that her eyes were filled with concern, “I can’t believe someone can be so-”

“Bratty?”, he smirked. 

“Fucking stupid,” she smiled, “But yeah, that too.”

The air felt lighter around them, and he sensed a heavy weight being lifted from his shoulders. But now that the secret was out, he felt even more stupid about his behaviour of the past weeks. The girl in front of him certainly hadn’t deserved any of it. 

The video game was long forgotten when he turned around to look at her, just briefly. Her curly hair was falling over her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed. Perhaps he had completely misread the situation. Perhaps it was time to swallow his pride. 

“Could we, um,” he hesitated, “Could we start again?”

Clarke gave him a warm smile, “Of course we can.”

* * *

The days went by, and then they became weeks. And he couldn’t believe, not for one second, that he didn’t hate Clarke Griffin anymore. It was weird, really, because he had  _ loathed _ her before, but now that feeling had completely gone away. 

She went by their house more often, and introduced him to her friends as well. They’d gone out one or twice to The Dropship, erasing the unpleasant memories of their first encounter there and replacing them with laughter, sarcasm, and unreadable stares. 

He dared to sit next to her during their Art History class once, and noticed that she doodled in the corner of her desk when she spaced out. She was actually...cute? Would that be the right word? Since when did he label people as ‘cute’, anyways? 

She gave him her number one day, pretty out of the blue, just because she wanted to send him memes during her study breaks at the library. He told her he could actually join her, but that he’d appreciate the memes nonetheless. 

And so his phone was flooded with all types of memes the next day. 

_ ‘I don’t know which ones you like...so I’m sending you ALL of them :)’ _

He also went to her apartment again, because the dishwasher breaking apparently was a monthly occurrence, and he always ended up staying longer than he initially intended. She always made sure he ate something, even if it was just a sad apple that had been forgotten at the back of her fridge. He appreciated it, anyway. And she always left him a tip, too. 

“I’m starting to think you break your dishwasher on purpose just to see me,” he told her one afternoon. 

Clarke rolled her eyes playfully, “Please, like I need an excuse. You’re practically attached to my hip these days.”

It wasn’t until she said it that he realised it was true. Which... _ weird _ . Weeks after rekindling their relationship, an honest, genuine friendship was born between them. It felt organic, good. They didn’t go a day without seeing each other now, even if it was just for a couple of minutes. 

And it started becoming a problem.

“Fuck, Bellamy, huh!”

He rolled his hips against her ass again, a loud grunt erupting from the back of his throat. He was so fucking close, yet his mind was so far away. He picked up his pace, and her walls tightening around his cock. He knew she was close, too. 

He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled at it, making her moan in response. He closed his eyes. This was certainly not the time to be thinking about  _ her _ . Not the place. 

“Bellamy, I’m so fucking close,” Roma whimpered. 

He groaned, “Let go, come on my cock. That’s it.”

The grip on her hair tightened, and he imagined for a second that her brunette strands were of a golden shade.  _ Fuck _ , he’d kill to see her like that. To see her screaming his name while he fucked her ruthlessly from behind. His grip on her ass would be so fucking tight it would leave marks on her ivory skin, and  _ shit _ . 

_ Shit, shit, shit _ . 

“Oh my god!”

In his mind, Roma’s voice became hers, and he came in an instant, filling up the condom. His head was spinning. 

This shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t be thinking about her while he fucked somebody else. It was so  _ wrong _ . What the hell was up with him? 

His phone flashed from Roma’s night table, and he spotted Clarke’s name on his screen.  _ Fuck _ .

“I should go,” he told her, after she came out of the bathroom, clean and fully dressed in her pajamas. 

Roma didn’t invite him to stay, and he wasn’t expecting her to. He wouldn’t stay, anyway. That was not what their arrangement was about. 

As he walked down the stairs to his car, he unlocked his phone and read her message. Octavia had invited herself to his house that night, and he had asked Clarke whether she wanted to come. She was probably replying to that. 

But he almost tripped down the last few steps as he read her message, a lump forming in his throat. 

_ ‘Can’t, sorry! :/ I have a date tonight.’ _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your constant kudos and feedback! I enjoy reading your comments a lot 💙
> 
> Happy reading!

So, Bellamy Blake. 

Huh. 

Who would’ve thought he wasn’t a total piece of shit after all?

Clarke tapped her book nervously with her fingertips, careful not to make any distracting noise that would get her kicked out. She was pretty sure she was on the librarian’s black list already. And if she didn’t have one, she probably had come up with it just to write her name on it. 

Her 2D Art & Design notes stared back at her from their abandoned spot on the wooden table, and she wasn’t really in the mood to pick them up. Not when her mind was racing in all possible directions, at a dangerous speed. 

Bellamy Blake was one hell of a strange man. One second he was completely indifferent about her existence, the next he hated her, and the next he had practically become one of her closest friends. He wasn’t on Raven’s level, not even Niylah’s, but still. She let out a defeated sigh. Sighing was allowed at the library, right?

He genuinely seemed to like her company, so she wasn’t going to question it. People change, after all. Especially if there’s a misunderstanding. He had been nothing but nice to her since that day, charming even. And funny. Jeez, he was  _ so _ funny. Bellamy had this particular kind of subtle humor one didn’t expect, because he looked so pissed off all the time no one would even think he could laugh, let alone joke. But his sarcastic and snarky comments always came out of nowhere, and always had her in tears. 

However, Bellamy wasn’t the only thing on her mind that afternoon. Oh, not at all. Because two days ago, something that she hadn’t seen coming happened. And she didn’t know how to feel about it. 

“So, Clarke,” Finn leaned over the wooden table in one of the study rooms, where apparently they now met once a week, “Are you doing anything Friday night?”

She raised an eyebrow. Where was he going with this?

“No, actually,” she said, “Why?”

His smile was charming as he spoke, “I was wondering if you’d like to hang out. Like, go to the movies or something.”

Go to the movies. Huh. 

“Y-Yeah, sure,” she stuttered. She had never been asked out before by a...man. God, was she really going on a date with a man? Why did it feel so surreal? 

She glanced at the clock. Three hours until her date with Finn. She should probably go home, shower and change, seeing that her study session clearly was going nowhere. What was she so nervous about, anyways? Finn seemed nice enough, funny even, at his best moments. He didn’t have Bellamy’s dry sense of humour, but she’d survive. It wouldn’t hurt to spend the evening with him. 

She had been so lost in constructing scenarios for the date ahead that she surprised herself to see how far she’d come. She spotted the neon sign of the movie theater a few blocks ahead. Arkadia wasn’t necessarily a fancy city, except for the more modern buildings and cafes built when they inaugurated the university. But the theater didn’t fall into that ‘modern category’ at all. You could pick the whole thing up and send it back thirty years and it wouldn't look out of place. 

Standing in the cold as she waited for him, her brain started grinding. It had taken her by surprise, really, because all this time she’d thought that Finn didn’t see her as anything else than a study partner. Perhaps a friend, but definitely not a close one. She remembered having seen him in some of her classes the previous years, but they never crossed paths. They didn’t have friends in common, either. 

And it wasn’t like she was nervous, or anything. Well. Maybe just a little. But she just didn’t know what to expect. She wasn’t very experienced in the dating department per se, only having dated Lexa before. But Lexa was a  _ woman _ . And plus, she had only kissed one boy before - back in the sixth grade. She didn’t think that counted as experience.

What if Finn wanted to kiss her? 

_ Oh god _ . 

Clarke tugged at the dress Raven and Niylah swore looked so flattering. Sexy, even. Now she wondered if he'd think it was too short. With each tug the front went lower, so she stopped. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. 

This was a friendly date between two people that found each other attractive. That was it. No need to...rush it. 

She gulped as she spotted him climb out of a car parked on the opposite side of the road. He waved at her, a big smile on his lips. She waved back as her heart started beating faster that she had anticipated it would. 

“Hey, Clarke,” she noticed he was wearing a rather nice-fitting pair of black jeans and a brown leather jacket. Okay, so he didn’t look all that bad. He smelled good, too. It definitely lifted her mood a little. 

“Hi,” she smiled, “Let’s go in. It’s freezing here.”

She had let him choose the movie, just because she hadn’t even bothered to look at what was in. Worst case scenario, she’d have to sit through two hours of complete and utter boredom, but whatever. She’d done worse, that one time Lexa had dragged her to some dress-up convention that ended up lasting eight hours. She despised costumes because of that, now. But the movie turned out being quite good - something about people living in space and going back to a post-apocalyptic Earth. 

“I wouldn’t stand living in space,” he half-laughed as they exited the theater two hours later. The cold night air made her shiver, “I mean, can you imagine? Not being allowed to open the windows, breathe fresh air.”

“It sounded pretty horrible,” she agreed, “But they went back to Earth at the end.”

“Earth is horrible, too, in a way,” he smirked, “They don’t get to spacewalk.”

She laughed, “You'd totally go on a spacewalk.”

“Oh, you can count on it,” he casually put an arm around her shoulders as they made their way down the street, and Clarke realised his touch actually didn’t feel that bad. 

When they reached his car, she suddenly felt a bit awkward. What was she supposed to do now?, “I had a really good time today,” he said, leaning on the red vehicle. 

She gave him a small, relieved smile, “Me too.”

He was staring at her in an odd way, she noticed. Finn then moved his head closer to hers, a subtle movement she thought she had imagined at first. She stood, frozen, from both fear and anticipation.

In a moment, he pressed his lips against hers softly, and Clarke felt her body loosen. Alarms went off in her head, but then his hands travelled to her forearms, and gave her a small squeeze. She relaxed into his touch, mimicking the movement of his lips, and tasted the salty flavour of popcorn in his mouth. 

Her breath was shaking when he pulled away, and she didn’t know what to say. Finn Collins had just  _ kissed _ her. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

“Do you want to go back to my place?”, his voice was low and rough as he spoke, and her heart skipped a beat. 

Did he…? God, did he want to _sleep_ with her?

Was that what he was implying?

She panicked. Finn was a nice guy, funny, charming. And definitely attractive. She would’ve loved to say yes, to agree so easily to go with him and have a good time. But she couldn’t. Anxiety started clumping at her chest. 

“Not tonight,” she managed to let out, “But I’d love to hang out again next week. You know, like this.”

He gave her an understanding smile, “Of course. Do you need a ride back home?”

* * *

Clarke was a fucking wreck the next morning. 

Her head was full of different voices that yelled at her, telling her what to do, what to think, how to feel. She wanted to scream. She needed to get out of her blurry mind. 

So, Finn Collins wanted to sleep with her. No big deal. Right? 

She paced around the kitchen, coffee cup in hand, as her phone laid cold on the counter. She needed help. Desperately. 

But who could she call? Raven came to her mind first. It was no secret that she had slept with a bunch of men, and she’d know what to do. She’d say the right words to her, calm her down. Only that...would she? Raven wasn’t exactly the most delicate person she knew, and perhaps she’d scare her with her experiences. So, okay, maybe not Raven. 

Niylah was her second option. But she quickly turned the idea down. Very much like her, Niylah had only slept with women. 

_ Well, fuck _ . 

There was only one person she could call. One person she trusted enough not to feel embarrassed about it, and someone who always had her best interests in mind. 

She dialed his number, and waited. One tone, two, then three. A fourth one. 

“Clarke?”

“Wells,” she swallowed, “I need a favour.”

She couldn’t see him through the phone, but she knew he had arched a confused eyebrow, “Okay.”

“Right, um,” she paced around the kitchen nervously, “Don’t freak out.”

“I won’t,” but she knew him like the back of her hand. He probably would. 

“Okay, so,” she let out a deep sigh she didn’t know she was holding, “I went on a date with this guy, Finn,” she paused. 

“Alright.”

“Yeah, alright. That’s the problem. He’s very nice.”

“So you like him?”

She hesitated, “Yes, I… I think I do,” she admitted, “We are going on another date next week.”

“That’s amazing, Clarke,” he sounded genuinely excited, “So what’s the issue?”

She felt her palms getting sweaty. There was no easy way to say this. She wasn’t going to beat around the bush, “Yesterday he invited me over to his place. I said no.”

Silence. Then, “Why?”

“Because he totally wanted to fuck me, Wells.”

“Oh my god,” he choked on his own words, “Clarke!”

“I’m sorry!”, she threw her head back in desperation, and groaned, “I’m just so nervous, Wells. I’ve never, you know… done it with a guy. I don’t know what to expect, and I don’t want to look like a fool in front of him.”

“Jesus, Clarke,” he sighed loudly, “This…  _ Shit _ . How do you want me to help?”

“Could you answer some questions for me?”

“About sex?”

“Yeah,” she hesitated. 

“Oh my god. Clarke, I…,” he tensed, “I’ve known you my whole life. You’re like a sister to me. I can’t just… Can’t you ask Raven?”

She arched an eyebrow, “Do you really think she would be of help?”

“Okay,” he half-chuckled, “Yeah, sorry. Perhaps she’s a bit too blunt.”

“That’s why I came to you. I know you won’t scare me off,” she sounded almost disappointed. 

“I know, Clarke, but… I don’t feel comfortable talking to you about this. I’m so sorry.”

She wasn’t really surprised, really. Deep down, she knew Wells was too much of a prude when it came to intimate talk. But she figured that he’d feel a bit more confident about it and all, now that he had a girlfriend. She didn’t have much luck. 

“Okay, that’s fine,” she told him, defeated, “I just didn’t know who to ask.”

He hummed, then stayed silent for a few seconds, “Don’t you have anyone else to ask about this?”

“No,” her new friends weren’t close enough so that she could have that conversation with them. She’d feel too embarrassed. Well, perhaps…, “Wait, no. I think there’s someone I could talk to.”

“Who?”

She paused, her voice hesitant. Would he really help her? “Bellamy.”

It was no secret that Bellamy Blake liked sex. He’d made it pretty obvious several times since they’d become friends. He didn’t bother to hide it, either, as he once texted her that he had slept in because he’d had a threesome the previous night. If he didn’t mind talking about his sex life with her, she shouldn’t have any reasons to be embarrassed about it, either. 

She drove to his house that same morning, hoping to find him there. He was probably working around town, but she didn’t care. She’d wait for him at his front door if necessary. 

Luckily, his truck was parked on the driveway when she got there. She walked inside the house without knocking, as nobody ever seemed to knock before entering that household anyways, and spotted him in the kitchen. 

“Shit, Princess,” he jumped, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” she smirked. 

He ruffled her hair as he passed by, making his way to the living room. She followed him. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said, feeling more self-conscious than she should have. It was just Bellamy. She knew she would be fine. 

He plopped down on the couch, next to his open laptop. So, he had been studying, “Shoot.”

She sat down next to him, but kept a safe distance, “There’s this guy.”

She swore she saw his muscles tense as she spoke, but she thought she was probably just seeing things, “Aright,” he said, carefully. 

“And last night we went on a date and he wanted to… you know,” she was trying so hard not to blush she thought she would pass out. 

“Have sex with you?”, he arched an eyebrow at her. His expression was serious. 

“Um, yeah,” she stuttered. 

Before she could continue, “And did you do it?”

Clarke shook her head, golden curls flying everywhere, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I chickened out.”

He chuckled, “You want to talk to me about how you freaked out and didn’t have sex with some guy?”

“It’s not  _ that _ ,” she rolled her eyes. Was he really that dense?, “Okay, listen, because I won’t repeat it again. I’ve never had sex with a guy.”

This wasn’t news to him, she didn’t think. He knew she was bisexual, and the only relationship she ever talked about was Lexa. 

“Alright.”

“And I’m scared I’ll make a fool of myself if I do it with Finn.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

He sighed, and readjusted himself on the couch so he was properly sitting down, looking right at her. His expression was serious, “There’s nothing you should feel embarrassed about,” he said, and for a moment she wanted to believe him, “We all have sex at some point,” he smirked. 

“But,” she hesitated. He was willing to talk about it with her and he seemed to be taking it seriously, even. She couldn’t miss this chance, “Does it, you know, hurt?”

His eyes seemed to widen, and suddenly she couldn’t read his expression. God, had she said anything wrong? What if he thought she was stupid, and naive, and-

“Clarke,” his smile was small, soft, and she realised he had never looked at her like that. She sank on the couch, feeling so little all of a sudden, “You... _ god _ ,” he chuckled. 

“What?”, she frowned. 

“You’re cute.”

Well. She was definitely blushing now, “W-What?”

“I said you’re cute,” he smiled, “Getting all worked up about this and everything. It’s really not that serious.”

“ _ For you _ ,” she narrowed her eyes, “You’re practically a sex God.”

He was full-on laughing now, “Okay, I’ll take it. But seriously, Clarke. It’s nothing.”

But the conversation wasn’t over, “What if I bleed? What if he doesn’t want to be with me because I’m a fucking virgin?”

Bellamy arched an eyebrow, “First of all, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin. It’s a social construct anyways,” his tone had gone back to serious now, “And secondly, you’ll probably bleed a little if, you know, you’ve never…”

“Lexa used some dildos on me,” she couldn’t believe those words had just left her mouth in front of  _ him _ , “But they were too small. They didn’t do much.”

His expression was unreadable again, his smile long gone. She didn’t get him sometimes. He sighed before speaking again.

“Just talk to him,” he said, finally, “Tell him to be gentle and to go slow. It’ll be fine. You’ll enjoy it.”

Deep down, she knew he was right. There was nothing to worry about. It wasn’t such a big deal. Finn seemed like a good guy, and he’d understand her concerns. Yeah, she now felt confident about that. 

She ended up staying all morning with Bellamy until he had to leave for work. She was so grateful he was someone she could talk to about anything, and he definitely was moving up on her friendship rank quickly.

If only her heart could stop beating so fucking fast when he was around. What the hell was all that about?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...things happen in this one 👀
> 
> Happy reading!

“Jasper, for fucks sake, open a fucking window.”

“Do you want your neighbours to smell pot?”

“I don’t want my house to stink, asshole.”

Three days until their date. Great. She wasn’t panicking at all. Absolutely not. Clarke Griffin had her emotions under control, just like always. Finn would ask her to come over to his apartment, she’d agree, and they’d have great, mindblowing sex. That’s how it was going to go. Nothing to worry about.

“Clarke, tell him to open the damn window,” Octavia coughed, “He won’t listen to us.”

What? Was she talking to her?

She went to the opposite site of the living room and opened the window. The cold evening air filled the room in seconds, and the smoke dissipated. Everyone but Jasper let out a relieved sigh. 

“Y’all are boring,” Jasper muttered, and lighted up another blunt. 

“And you’re stoned,” Bellamy’s big hand covered Jasper’s, and he took the blunt with him, “Enough for today.”

The boy groaned, “Didn’t know you were the pot police.”

“Jasper, you’re trashed,” she heard Emori say.

“Tone it down, dude,” Murphy agreed from his place on the recliner. 

Bellamy gestured to him to pass the lighter. Jasper obligued, “So lame, Dad.”

He rolled his eyes, “If I were your Dad you’d sleep outside today.”

“If I was your son I’d definitely be taller,” Jasper imagined out loud, too high for his own good, as he laid down on the floor with his head on Octavia’s lap. 

“You definitely wouldn’t be a crackhead,” Bellamy smirked. 

“I mean,” Octavia shrugged, “I’d be his aunt, so he’d probably be  _ something _ .” 

They all laughed, and Bellamy ruffled his sister’s hair as he made his way over towards Clarke, who had been unusually quiet. She noticed then that she hadn’t moved from her position next to the open window. 

“Want to catch another cold, Princess?”, he teased, and closed it. 

“Sorry,” she smiled, “I was too distracted by the mental image of Jasper being your son.”

“Ha-ha. Wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

She rolled her eyes, “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Me, dramatic? Never,” he sat on the window sill, “Octavia took all those genes.”

She laughed, and bumped her shoulder to his. He then wrapped an arm around her form and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Her heart stopped. Bellamy had never hugged her before. He had never displayed any type of physical affection towards her, ever. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the room warmer somehow.

Their friends were still chatting lively around them when he half-whispered, “Still worried about that whole Flynn thing?”

“ _ Finn _ .”

“Whatever,” he squeezed her shoulder. 

“I guess,” she sighed, “I just…,” she felt stupid bringing it up again, but she knew Bellamy would listen, “I just wish I knew what to expect. All I have is my friends’ experiences and they all agree that the first time isn’t very nice. I don’t want to go through that with him.”

Bellamy arched an eyebrow, “Why not with him?”

“I mean,” she quickly corrected herself, “It’s nothing to do  _ with him _ . It’s just like… It’s supposed to be a romantic thing, I guess. Not the moment to lose my virginity.”

“Because it will hurt.”

“And because it will be messy.”

He let out a long sigh, and pulled her closer. It felt comfortable. He was big and warm, and his body shielded her from the cold air around them. 

“Clarke?”

“Hmm.”

Silence. She moved her head slightly to look up at him. 

He paused, “It’s nothing. Forget it”. 

“It’s something,” she narrowed her eyes, “What is it?”

He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. That’s how she knew he was nervous, “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me, Bell,” she nudged his side. Why was he so secretive for?

When Miller blasted some rock song she couldn’t recognise, he took the chance to speak, “Would you want me to, hum, help you with that?”

Her heart stopped. Was she imagining things? Had she heard him right over the loud music?

“What?”, she half-shouted in his ear. 

He didn’t say anything, and instead pulled away from her and stood up. He gestured to the hallway with his head, so she followed him out of the room and upstairs to his bedroom. It smelled like him, she noticed. A strong, spicy scent she’d recognise anywhere. 

He paced nervously around the room, “Forget what I said. It was stupid.”

She arched an eyebrow, “You want to help with  _ what _ , exactly?”

He wasn’t looking at her in the eye, “You think your first time will be painful and disgusting, so I just thought…,” he paused, “I just thought I could get that out of the way for you.”

She felt a soft panic growing inside her chest. Her brain started looking for any sign that he was joking, that she was imagining things. But his serious expression only made her palms sweat, and her heart race even more. 

“W-Would you do that for me?”, her voice was barely a whisper. 

“If you’re up for it,” he was looking at her now, and gave her a small smile, “You can say no.”

But did she really want to say no? Bellamy was a handsome man, there was little doubt about that. It didn’t help that he was so modest with it. He never bragged, never thought he was better than anyone else, in any sense. And he had his reasons to do so. Clarke was never one to be blinded by looks, but Bellamy was something else. She had learnt that.

And yes, on the outside he was handsome, but on the inside he was beautiful. She could see past the walls he seemed so keen on putting up, and soon realised that he was a caring, patient man. She saw it clearly when he was around Octavia. He could be an asshole sometimes, alright, but his true colours shone through his eyes every time she looked at them. 

And she trusted him. For some reason, she did. But could she trust him that much? Could she trust him with her body?

But she wouldn’t have a chance like this again, she thought. And for some reason, it felt right, “Okay,” she nodded, slowly, “Let’s do it. Let’s get it out of the way.”

He gulped, “You sure?”, she nodded again, “Alright. Just a second.”

He went to the door and locked it, then turned off the bright light of his room and opted for the dim one of his bedside table. She stood in silence, watching his every move. 

_ Oh my fucking god, am I really going to do this? _

“Okay,” he looked around the room nervously, as if he were looking for something, “I can give you a minute if you’d like. The bathroom is right here.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. She wasn’t fine, but oh well. Doing something embarrassing with Bellamy would be ten times better than making a fool of herself in front of Finn. 

He sat down on his bed, and patted the soft mattress under him, “Come here.”

She walked over to him, quietly like a ghost, and sat down in front of him. His brown eyes were piercing into her soul, and she didn’t know what to do next. 

“Are you one hundred percent sure about this, Clarke?”

She bit the inside of her cheek nervously, and nodded, “It’s just sex.”

But was she sure? Did she really want to cross that line? Sex can be just sex, they both knew that. But they were friends now.  _ Friends _ . It could get complicated.

“Do you think,” she cleared her voice, and her muscles tensed, “it will be awkward between us after this?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he closed the distance between them, capturing her slim hand on his calloused one. She noticed his skin was surprisingly soft for a man who worked with his hands. The circling patterns his thumb was tracing on her skin put her mind at ease. 

It was all going to change. She knew that. But it felt like a life or death situation, like she needed to get it all out of the way. And if Bellamy was willing to help her out, then so be it. She could definitely do worse. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he squeezed her hand, “I will take care of you, alright?”

She felt a shiver down her spine, and nodded. She felt safe - he’d back off if she told him to. But what next? What was she supposed to do now? 

“Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes involuntarily travelled to his lips, so pink and full and ready to kiss her.  _ God _ . She nodded again, slowly. 

Bellamy reached for her, so patiently it felt like a fucking lifetime.  _ It is really going to happen _ . Her hand was still in his, and she didn’t want to let go. She needed to hold onto something, to feel like she wasn’t completely falling apart. His other hand went to the back of her neck, stroking her there softly. She froze into place. 

Then, his lips brushed hers. Not innocently, like a tease but hot, passionate and demanding. Not what she was expecting, but she didn’t complain. This wasn’t romantic, after all. There were no feelings involved. She felt a tingle between her legs, and for a second she wanted to pull away before losing herself in him. But she couldn’t. Clarke could no longer think straight.

The next thing she knew, he had pressed his lips to hers, soft at first, and nearly knocked all air from her lungs. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She let out a content sigh. 

_ Fuck, it feels good. _

Unexpectedly, his hand travelled to her hip. It settled there and pulled her closer. She inhaled sharply. She was against his warm chest, heart racing and mind completely numb. She splayed her hand against his broad torso, intending to push him away at first, but instead she left it there. 

His breathing quickened, and so did hers. This wasn’t what she’d thought would happen when he had offered his help, but she certainly wasn’t going to object. Their lips were like magnets, unable to part ways. And she didn’t want them to. 

When they pulled away, longing for air, she looked up at him hesitantly. His lips were parted, his hooded eyes dark, and she felt a strong desire working its way up her body. She had never felt like this. 

“Come here,” he groaned, and for a second he looked intimidating. 

His hands grabbed the back of her thighs, and she climbed into his lap without hesitation. This time, she brought their lips together. This kiss was sloppier, hungrier, and she let his hands roam her back and her ass. He gave her a squeeze, and she whimpered into his mouth. 

A sound she had never heard before erupted from the back of his throat, and in a swift movement he pushed her back to the soft mattress, his body now hovering over hers. He covered her up entirely. 

Taking a step back, Bellamy stepped out of his jeans and took off his shirt. And  _ fuck _ . She took a moment to run her eyes over him, hungry for every inch of his exposed, tanned skin. She was so fucking greedy for him. 

He toyed with the band of her jeans, “Let’s take these off,” her heart jumped, but she nodded. 

The thought of Bellamy seeing her naked was arousing and terrifying at the same time. What if she was the least sexy girl he’d ever seen? What if he didn’t feel attracted to her like that and couldn’t-

Her thoughts were interrupted by him rolling down her legs not only her jeans, but her panties too. She widened her eyes, breath picking up, and in a second she was fully exposed to him. 

He licked his lips in anticipation, and it made her shiver. In a quick movement, he took her wrists and pinned them down to the bed with one hand. His dark stare had never been more intense, “Don’t move.”

The rough command sent a flood of wetness between her legs. His big hand moved to her knees, parting her thighs open for him. She was completely exposed, and she’d never felt so fucking aroused. He ran his middle finger across her glistening slit. 

“Is this all for me, Princess?”

She nodded quickly, unable to let the words out. She was  _ dying _ to be touched. Bellamy’s eyes locked with hers, smug against her desperation. He caressed her inner thighs before going back to where she really wanted him. The thought of his fingers inside of her was all-consuming.

But it took her by surprise, and she almost complained, when he left their close proximity, and stood up at the foot of the bed. She instantly missed his touch. 

She really considered complaining out loud when his hand viciously stroked his cock through the slim fabric of his underwear, and in a swift movement he lowered his mouth to her cunt. A high-pitched moan spilled out of her at the first touch of his tongue up her slit, and she feared the people downstairs had heard her and figured out exactly what they were doing. But as he parted her wet folds with his experienced fingers and rubbed her core, she threw her head back in pleasure and realised she didn’t really care. 

Bellamy caught her clit between his lips and sucked harshly, making her cry out loud in ecstasy. He pulled away suddenly, his mouth and bearded chin glistening with her wetness. “Quiet, Princess. You don’t want our friends to hear us, right?”

She shook her head head quickly, “I’ll be quiet, please! Oh my god, don’t stop Bellamy, don’t stop!”

He smirked against her cunt, giving it one long and slow lick. She gripped at his covers, “You’re delicious, baby girl.”

_ Fuck _ . She threw her head back in pleasure as the nickname rolled off his lips, and he buried his mouth on her cunt again. He licked her fast and good, so fucking good she started shaking from it. He put his hands on her hips, pinning her down to the bed, and making a kind of pressure that was driving her insane. 

“That’s it,” he said, voice low and possessive, “I know it feels good. I know. You taste so fucking good.”

Clarke put her hands over her mouth, unable to keep quiet overwise. This was too much. This was so fucking much. 

“Bellamy,” she whined, “I’m so close, Bell.”

“Yes, you are,” he encouraged her against her cunt, his voice sending a vibration to her clit, “Come on my mouth, Princess. I got you.”

Her back arched in pleasure as she reached her climax. His tongue didn’t slow down, and he was nibbling and sucking on her cunt with such vice she couldn’t believe he wanted her that bad. She shivered as she reached her orgasm, and couldn’t control herself as she cried his name out loud, high-pitched and hot. She couldn’t breathe. 

Bellamy pulled away with a grin, leaving her cunt pulsating and over-sensitive. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, “That was so fucking sexy, Clarke.”

She chuckled, but still struggled to catch her breath, “I didn’t know you were going to eat me out,” she confessed. 

He smirked down at her, “How could I not?” 

She simply looked up at him, unable to find the words. He had wanted to eat her out. He had wanted  _ her _ . She felt overwhelmed. 

Bellamy reached for a condom on his bedside table, and she watched carefully as he tore it open. She gulped. He stepped out of his underwear, his cock already hard and ready to fuck her. He rolled the condom onto him, and her breath hitched when she noticed it didn’t reach the base. 

Clarke had never seen a cock in person before, and Bellamy’s was overwhelmingly big. Not only was he huge, but he was also dark and thick, and she didn’t think she could take him. She was wet, but there was simply no way. 

She watched as he jerked his cock next to her, pumping it up and down with his large hand. She wanted it in her mouth, just to see what he tasted like. 

He moved carefully towards the bed, a soft and calming smile on his face, as he positioned himself above her, “Tell me to stop, and I will, okay?”

“I won’t tell you to stop,” she said, surely. 

He chuckled, “Alright,” his hand grabbed his length, and he positioned himself on her entrance, but he didn’t move. He was waiting for confirmation. 

“Wait!”, she pushed him back slightly, panic suddenly rising on her chest. She sat straighter on the bed, and he immediately backed up. 

“What’s wrong?”, he asked, concerned. 

“Bellamy, I don’t…,” she shook her head rapidly, “It’s not going to fit.”

“It will, Clarke,” he gave her a reassuring squeeze on her leg, “You’re wet, I’ll be careful. And plus, I’ve got some lube if we need it.”

Wow, she thought, he was truly prepared. 

“I will probably bleed,” she said, voicing her worries out loud. 

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

“It will hurt.”

“That’s kind of inevitable the first time. But I will go slow.”

She nodded, but didn’t move. He sounded too convinced that it was going to be okay. He’d had a lot more sex than she would probably have in her entire life, and perhaps he’d taken someone’s virginity before. Bellamy always knew what he was doing, and this was no exception. 

“Okay,” she nodded. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” she hesitated, “I’m ready.”

He smiled softly, and leaned forwards to press a gentle but firm kiss to her forehead, “It’ll be okay, Princess.”

A shiver went down her spine, and she suddenly felt an inexplicable burst of comfort. She was safe with him. 

He went back to his previous position above her, his tip pressed against her cunt. She knew she was still wet, and supposed that was a good thing if she needed to take his enormous cock. But she was ready. 

And then, it happened. She felt his thick length parting her lips, stretching her walls to take him in. Just the tip at first, but it still felt like too much already. Clarke’s mouth fell open to the sensation, her nails digging into his arms. She felt like she was falling apart. 

“Oh my god,” she said quietly as he pushed into her a bit more. 

“You’re doing so good, babe,” he encouraged while diving his cock into her a few inches deeper. Her walls were contracting and pulsating against him, and he wanted to just fuck her right there. But he couldn’t. He was going to take good care of her. 

She felt a sudden pinch of pain on her abdomen, making her wince. Bellamy stopped immediately, “Are you okay?”

She shut her eyes and tried to even her breath, “It hurts.”

Bellamy’s stomach twisted at her words, and he didn’t hesitate as he pressed their foreheads together, “Focus on our lips, Princess,” and he closed the slim space between them, capturing her lips into a deep, slow kiss.

He waited for a few seconds, then kept pushing into her deliberately slow. She was so fucking tight it was driving him insane. 

After what felt like an eternity for her, his tip finally reached the wall at the end of her core. She was full of him. 

“Bellamy,” she breathed out between kisses. He pulled away, “Am I bleeding?”

“Do you want me to look?”

She nodded, eyes full of worry. Carefully, he pulled out of her, and Clarke felt empty again. She didn’t think she’d miss the sensation so much, after all the pain. 

“I don’t see blood here,” he said, examining the condom. His eyes then travelled to her cunt, and she almost felt embarrassed, “You’re clean, too.”

“Good,” she couldn’t hide her smile, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Princess,” he didn’t waste time as he kissed her again, nibbling on her lower lip. 

He slid into her easily this time, and Clarke noticed it didn’t hurt as much. It was still uncomfortable at first, but the discomfort was quickly replaced with deep pleasure. 

He was pumping into her faster now, making her moan. The tight grip of his hand on her waist was driving her insane, and she realised she loved being fucked like that. She never thought she’d like being manhandled, yet there she was, desperate for his rough touch. He felt so fucking good inside her. Then Bellamy shifted, finding the perfect angle and her moans became high and breathy as he fucked her faster on the edge of the bed. 

She clawed at his sheets as she took his whole cock into her, her moans now in sync with his. She was pretty sure their friends knew what was happening by now, but she was so full of him she couldn’t think straight. 

Then Bellamy grasped the back of her hair, tugging her head up so that she’d look at him right in the eye, “How does my cock feel? Is that good, Clarke?”

She whined at the possessiveness of his actions, “You’re so big, Bellamy. You feel so good inside of me.”

He grunted, and rolled his hips into her ruthlessly, “ _ Fuck _ , Princess. You’re so fucking tight. I could fuck you all day.”

He rocked into her harder, his hips knocking into her ass. The sounds of skin on skin and her wet cunt being fucked were so obscene she let out a loud, guttural moan. Sex had never made her feel like this. So fucking filthy, so damn sexy. 

Bellamy’s arm snaked around her waist, lifting her up, her covered boobs pressing into his chest as he fucked her harder. Clarke leaned her head against his shoulder, unable to hold herself together any longer. 

“Oh god,” she gasped, her cunt contracting around his length, “Fuck, Bellamy, please!”

“That’s it, baby girl. Come for me. Come on my cock,” he panted, rhythm increasing. He was so fucking close. He wanted to spill all over her cunt, claim her as his. 

The pleasure became too much, and climax crashed into her seconds later. Bellamy was quick to put his hand over her mouth, hoping it wasn’t too late to hide what they were doing. 

She screamed into his palm as she came, waves of overwhelming pleasure washing over her. His thrusts quickened as he followed after her into orgasm. Pure bliss. Bellamy groaned into her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. His body went still over her, and he let go. 

He then removed his hand from her mouth, letting Clarke regain her breath, heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t believe they had just done  _ that _ . She couldn’t believe Bellamy Blake had fucked her so damn good. 

Bellamy lied back on the bed, bringing her with him by the waist. She dropped her head on his chest, completely exhausted. He traced soft patterns on her arm as they lied there, quietly. They could still hear the loud music downstairs. 

“That was… That was so fucking good, Clarke.”

Her heart jumped, “It was,” she managed a tired, pleased smile, “Thank you for doing this for me.”

“Thank  _ you _ for allowing me to do this for you, fucking God,” he let out a breathy chuckle. 

He turned his head around, and pressed his lips softly against the crown of her head. He didn’t want to think about why she had agreed to do this with him in the first place. He didn’t want to think that, in a couple of days, she would be doing exactly that with someone else. He didn’t want to think. He just wanted to feel her, savour the moment. 

Clarke wrapped an arm around his exposed, sweaty torso. Her head was spinning, and she didn’t know how to feel about any of it. She felt happy, safe, satisfied. But would it be the same with Finn? Would he make her feel what Bellamy did?

She didn’t want to think about it. Instead, she closed her eyes and snuggled up against his warm body. 

She was okay. She was safe between those four walls, with him. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things happen in this one, too 👀 It’s kind of a wild ride from now on, ngl. 
> 
> Kudos and feedback are always appreciated! 
> 
> Happy reading 😊

She tried not to think about it, really. Between classes, work, and giving her apartment a much needed clean up session, she thought she would be fine. But who was she trying to fool?

Bellamy’s mouth on her had been the highlight of her entire life, and she wasn’t even joking. She knew he was experienced...but  _ holy fuck _ . For someone who worked with his hands, so rough and harsh, he sure was a tender lover when he wanted to be. He was demanding, but there was always a softness to his touch that drove her crazy. Or perhaps he just didn’t want to scare her. Either way, she liked both versions of him.

Every time she thought about how it felt to have him inside of her, she wanted to scream. The sensation had been new, but so damn satisfying she couldn’t wait to do it again. The way her body adjusted to take him in, made room for him, and synced with his had been an out of body experience. Totally mind blowing. 

And now she had the chance to do it all over again. Only that… with Finn.

She wasn’t disappointed, not at all. It was not that. Finn was an amazing guy, and she felt comfortable around him. Comfortable enough to say yes when he asked if she wanted to go back with him to his apartment on their second date. And she was excited to have sex again, now that she knew what it was like. Relaxed, as well. She was no longer a virgin, so that was one less thing she had to worry about that evening. She felt confident, too. The way Bellamy had looked at her, how he’d made her feel and how she’d made  _ him _ feel, empowered her in ways she couldn’t explain. 

Finn’s apartment was actually quite far away from hers, and she was confused as to why he lived so far from campus. It surely couldn’t be convenient. He lived with his two roommates, Atom and McCreary, who worked at a nearby pub, or something like that. Clarke couldn’t remember, or didn’t really care for that matter. Luckily for her, they weren’t at home when they got there.

When Finn closed his bedroom’s door behind him, she immediately felt his hot breath on her neck, eager. His lips traced her skin temptatively, burning her as they made contact with her sensitive spot. She reminded herself to calm down and enjoy it. She’d have a good time. Nothing to worry about - Bellamy made sure of that. 

_ God _ , Bellamy. He had never kissed her neck, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like. Would she feel tingles? Would his hands roam her body? They probably would. Bellamy was touchy, she knew that now. 

She mentally shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking about Bellamy when Finn was literally  _ right there _ , making out with her neck.

_ Focus, Clarke, focus _ . 

His hands fell down her back and settled over her ass, where he squeezed slightly. See? He was making her feel good. The best thing to do, she decided, was to just let go. Enjoy the moment and let go. She took his jacket off, and it fell to the floor silently. He then pushed her slowly down on the bed, and she knew the inevitable was going to happen next. She let go. 

Or at least she tried to. Being intimate with someone felt scary now, for some reason. It hadn’t been with Bellamy, but again, her senses had completely turned off that night. This time, it didn’t happen. 

She was aware of everything that was going on in that bed, between their bodies, and she felt the need to find the logic behind his every move. Why was he touching her there? Did he want her to do anything? Finn wasn’t a talker like Bellamy was. She didn’t find it particularly inconvenient, but it would’ve been easier if he just voiced what he was feeling. _Anything_. 

She almost panicked when Finn parted her folds with two eager fingers, rubbing on her ever so slightly before pushing one of them inside her clit. And  _ fuck _ . It hurt. It hurt so fucking much she felt as if the air had been knocked out from her lungs. But Finn didn’t get the message, apparently, as his lips attached to her neck once again while he fingered her. 

He didn’t seem to have any kind of plan, just in and out, and in and out. And while the pain eventually faded away, it wasn’t pleasant either. There was no way she could get off like that. Finn eventually stopped, and she mentally sighed, relieved. Okay, so he wasn’t the best at fingering. Whatever, that wasn’t a dealbreaker for her. 

However, when he slid inside of her, she couldn’t let go any longer. Her mind went straight to Bellamy and what he had made her feel. It was definitely not  _ this _ . 

Finn wasn’t as big, but that wasn’t important. He lacked...technique. Perhaps he was nervous, she thought. She definitely wasn’t calm herself. But he seemed too focused on sliding in and out repeatedly, very much like with his fingers, and it wasn’t doing much for her. 

She eventually reached between her legs and rubbed on her clit with her middle finger, desperate to feel  _ something _ . He groaned in her shoulder, head buried on her neck, and she knew he wouldn’t last much longer. 

Five minutes later, Finn spoke for the first time, saying that he was about to come. Clarke accelerated the rhythm between her legs, but he got there first anyways. It was almost embarrassing, she thought, how he seemed to be out of breath while she was barely sweating. 

Whatever. It was just their first time, it didn’t have to be perfect. And it wasn’t completely  _ unpleasant _ , either. They’d get better at it. 

Right?

* * *

“Clarke’s coming,” he informed the group, eyes still on the message she had sent him a few minutes ago.

_ ‘Please tell me you’re free rn :(’ _

Miller gave him a thumbs up from the couch, where he was snuggled under Jackson’s arm. 

“You know what,” he heard Murphy say as he emerged from his room, shirtless and a bag of chips in hand, “I knew you’d eventually get along.”

Bellamy gave him a look, “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” he put a few chips on his mouth, and chewed loudly. Bellamy almost wanted to punch him for it, “You were just being an ass because you like her.”

The man gulped. No one in their group of friends had bought up the other night, so he had assumed nobody knew what Clarke and him had been up to in his room. It was just a one-time thing, anyway. It wasn’t like they were at risk of being caught, or anything. But what if Murphy knew? He wouldn’t let him live it down. 

“I mean,” he continued, “She’s got money and all that jazz, but she’s more like us.”

Bellamy arched an eyebrow, “Like us.”

“Yeah, you know,” he put another handful of chips in his mouth, “Down-to-earth, funny, all that shit.”

He was right. Clarke Griffin had ended up being the exact opposite of what he thought she would be. Much for his sake. Because he knew that she’d stick around if she was Octavia’s friend. 

“I guess,” he checked his phone again, in case she had sent him another message. Nothing. 

“So, are you guys fucking?”

Bellamy almost choked on air, “What the fuck, Murphy?”

He shrugged, “Or not yet?”

“We are not fucking,” he said, his tone serious. Okay, they had fucked, but they were not  _ fucking _ . It wasn’t a regular thing. 

Murphy hummed, not convinced, “Why not?”

“Hey, guys,” a known voice erupted into the room, much to Bellamy’s relief. 

“Thank God,” he sighed, walking up to where Clarke was standing, a confused look on her face, “Murphy is being weird again. Let’s just go to my room,” he put an arm around her shoulders, guiding her out of the room.

“Don’t make too much noise!” Murphy waved them goodbye, “Some of us have to work in the morning.”

“Ignore him,” Bellamy groaned into her ear, and sent his roommate a death glare before disappearing down the hall with her. They heard him chuckle as they went up the stairs. 

“What was that about?”, she half-chuckled, once he safely closed his bedroom door behind him. She sat down on his bed, looking defeated, and he realised she hadn’t actually told him why she was there. It was pretty late at night, as well. He started to worry. 

“Nothing,” he said, quickly, “Is everything alright?”

Clarke grunted, and plopped down on his bed, back-first, as a long sigh escaped her lips. He couldn’t help but smile at how...cute? she was being. How hadn’t he seen it before? Whatever. 

“I was with Finn earlier,” she said, hands hiding her eyes. 

Finn? Who the fuck was that? 

“Finn?”, he asked, feeling like a horrible friend for not remembering. 

She turned her head to look at him, eyes peeking through her fingers, “Virginity guy,” she said, “You know, the one I’m kind of seeing. The reason why we slept together?”

Ah, Finn.  _ That _ guy. The muscles on his back tensed.  _ ‘The reason why we slept together’. _ Well, it was true. He had helped her lose her virginity so she wouldn’t have to do it with him. But his stomach dropped nonetheless. 

“And what’s the deal?”, he asked nonchalantly, laying down next to her on his side, “Did you do it?”

She sighed again, “Yes,” he tried to ignore the way something twisted and turned inside of him.

“So?”, he asked again, “Did it hurt? Did you bleed?”

“A little, and no,” she removed her hands from her eyes and sat down on the bed, facing him, a concerned look on her eyes, “He  _ fingered _ me, Bellamy.”

He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips, “That’s kind of what one does when having sex.”

But she shook her head, “I know, but it wasn’t… It wasn’t pleasant, you know? Like, there was a bit of friction and whatever, but he just,” she started moving her finger forward and backwards repeatedly, and he had to resist the urge to just laugh at her face, “He just slid it in and out and nothing else.”

“So, he’s bad at fingering,” he smiled, “Is he good at the rest?” 

“Mm. I guess? I don’t know, it wasn’t mind blowing or anything. But it was good. Maybe it was me.”

He frowned, “Why do you say that?”

She shrugged, “Maybe I wasn’t horny enough or whatever. I don’t know.”

“Clarke,” his tone was serious now. He wasn’t going to let her take the blame, “It’s not your fault some guy can’t fuck you right.”

She looked at him, eyes so blue and full of worry his chest combusted. He immediately felt bad for her. Okay, so at first he’d thought Clarke was an uptight, bratty girl with nothing but her parents’ money under her belt. But nothing further from the truth. 

In just a few weeks, they had grown unbelievably close, and Bellamy was surprised to admit that she was now one of his best friends. It wasn’t helping that they had fucked, or that he had jerked off at the thought of her once, but hey. He wasn’t made of stone. 

It broke his heart to see her like this, and he hated it. He hated it because his heart only broke for Octavia and for his mom. For nobody else. So what the fuck was this shit?

“Thanks, Bell,” she gave him a small smile, “I still think I’m kind of broken, but thanks,” she half-laughed. 

He frowned, “You’re not broken, Clarke. Why do you say that?”

“Because,” she sighed, “I don’t know. It was kind of weird, having sex with him. It wasn’t...great. Not like-”

She immediately stopped, and he noticed that her eyes were a little wider, “Not like what?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head, “All I’m saying is that it’s probably my fault, just a little. I had only had sex with a guy once. You,” her finger poked his chest, making him smile. God, yeah. He really had been her first time. 

“But you’ve been fingered before,” he pointed out. Sure that must’ve been something she did with her girlfriend back in the day. 

Clarke shrugged, “Yes, but it’s been a long time. I barely remember what it felt like, you know?”

Bellamy almost slapped himself for the intrusive thoughts he was having. And no, he wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t. He’d be taking advantage of her, of her situation, again. And it was a one-time thing, they’d made it pretty clear.

When he went silent for longer than usual, Clarke poked his chest with her tiny finger again, “Earth to Bellamy.”

“Huh,” he swallowed, looking down at her, “Sorry. Zoned out.”

“I can see that,” she gave him a small smile, “Anyways, thank you for letting me come to vent. I needed that,” she stood up slowly from the bed, and went to grab her bag. 

“Wait,” before he could stop himself, his hand was wrapped around her wrist. 

When she looked back at him, her stare was just as dark as his. He gulped. She couldn’t be thinking about it too, could she? There was only one way to find out.

“Let me prove to you that you’re not broken.”

She swallowed, “How?”

He closed the distance between them, almost too slowly, until his chest was pressed against her side, wrist still in his grip. God, he wanted to pull at it and just throw her on the bed, fuck her senseless until her throat went dry from screaming his name. 

_ No _ . 

It’s Clarke. He should be taking it easy. He pressed his forehead to hers, breath hot as he whispered, “Let me show you how good my fingers feel inside if you, Princess.”

Clarke swallowed, and so he did. They had crossed that line already, but for some reason it felt like something completely different to cross it again. They could take a step back, pretend their night together was just that. A night. But he didn’t want to. He needed to make her feel good, show her how unbroken she was.

He was surprised when she spoke so confidently, low voice almost matching his, “You’re going to fuck me with your fingers, Bell?”

_ Fuck _ . 

His lips caught hers in a hungry, desperate kiss. God, he had missed the feeling of their mouths together, tongues tangled, breaths heavy and agitated. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging for dear life as his hands rested on her lower back, pressing her body against her with such possessiveness he almost had to hold himself back. 

Clarke started undressing herself, which took him by surprise. She was eager for him, and that only turned him on even more. She stepped out of her jeans and he tossed her down on the bed, hovering over her small frame, “You’re all wet for me already, babe?”, his fingers touched her over the slim fabric of her underwear. 

“Mm,” she bit her lip in anticipation, watching his every move. She hadn’t felt like this with Finn - this eager, this wet, this ready for him. Bellamy had an effect on her nobody else could have.

“I want to rip these off,” he almost groaned, toying with the slim black fabric that barely covered her cunt.

She had worn that specific thong for Finn, just so that she could feel sexy and confident when he looked at her body. But he hadn’t done such a thing. He’d been quick, ready to fuck her and get it over with. But Bellamy was different. The way his eyes were scanning her entire body, with such lust it made her shiver, was something else. She felt desired. 

Luckily for her (she really liked that thong, especially now that she knew what effect it had on him), he ended up not ripping it off, and instead slid it slowly down her bare legs. She buckled her hips forwards, desperate for contact. 

His hands started roaming higher at an agonising pace, first above her knees, and then up her thighs. Heat pooled in her lower stomach, and she felt warm and tingly all over. Bellamy was really good with his hands, tender, and always applied the right amount of pressure. 

He was a goner. The way she was spread out like that, naked and wet and ready to take his fingers, was almost too much. His cock was aching inside his sweatpants, and he resisted the urge to take it out and shove it inside of her. But he couldn’t. This was about Clarke, about her pleasure. 

He needed to make up for that ridiculous Flynn boy who couldn’t even fuck her right. 

Well,  _ he _ was going to fuck her just like she deserved. 

Bellamy started to rub his thumb in circles around her clit, softly and slowly. She whimpered at his touch, and closed her legs around his hand. He smirked. She was so damn responsive it only made him want to work her up even more. 

“Tell me what you need, babe,” he grunted under his breath, unable to hold himself together. 

“F-Finger,” she managed to let out, head thrown back in pleasure. 

“Mm,” slowly, he inserted his middle finger inside of her, feeling how her walls contracted around it. God, she was unreal, “Feels so good on your wet cunt.”

Clarke arched her hips upwards again, and that’s how he knew she wanted it faster. He started pumping quickly into her, a steady rhythm as his thumb still rubbed on her clit. She started moaning under his touch, and his free hand absentmindedly travelled to his hard cock. He rubbed himself over the soft fabric of his sweatpants. 

“I think you can take another one,” he smirked, and pushed another finger inside of her before she could answer. The loud moan that escaped from her lips was confirmation enough, “That’s it. Good girl. Taking my fingers just like you took my cock.”

“Bellamy,” she whined, “You’re so good. Oh my god, Bellamy, it feels so fucking good.”

“I know, babe,” he cooed, “This is how that fucker should’ve gotten you off. He can’t make you feel this good, can he?”

Clarke shook her head, “N-No.”

“That’s right,” his rhythm increased, and he felt her pulsate around him. She was dripping wet, and  _ fuck _ . It was all for him, “No one can ever fuck you like I do. Look at you, baby girl, dripping wet for me.”

Clarke gripped the sheets tightly, “Don’t stop,  _ shit _ . I’m going to come. Oh!”

“Come on my fingers, pretty girl,” he encouraged, “Show me how good you like being fucked by my fingers.”

“Oh my god!”, and then he felt it. Her muscles tightened and then relaxed, and he thought it would be impossible, but his hand got even wetter. 

_Fucking shit_. She was so fucking hot. He couldn’t get enough of her. He couldn’t. 

She let out a breathy laugh once she found her breath again, “Jesus, Bellamy,” she chuckled, “That was amazing.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” he smirked. The erection on his pants hadn’t calmed down a bit, but oh well. He wasn’t going to force her into doing anything. This was all about her.

She sat back on the bed, looking at the wet spots on the covers, visibly embarrassed. He couldn’t help but smile, “I was going to wash them soon, anyway.”

Clarke looked up at him, tired eyes and tired smile. He resisted the urge to tuck her into bed. But that wasn’t his role. His role was to make her feel satisfied, to let her know how she was supposed to be treated in bed. And he was pretty fucking good at it, if he said so himself. 

“Can you give me a ride home?”, she asked, voice small and almost embarrassed. 

“Of course I can, Princess,” he tossed her her jeans and underwear, and she got dressed in silence. Bellamy didn’t look at her. 

When they left his house and hit the road towards her apartment, Bellamy felt a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t want to think about this now. Not ever. He didn’t want to think about how he was not the only man in her life who got to fuck Clarke Griffin. And why was it bothering him, anyway? It didn’t bother him that Roma fucked other guys, too. 

Her apartment got into view sooner than he expected, and she gave him a small kiss on the cheek as a goodbye and thanks for the ride. And thanks for the fingering too, he guessed. 

He didn’t leave until he saw her entering the building, and then he stayed there for a little longer. Because  _ fuck _ , this couldn’t be happening. 

He shouldn’t be jealous of a guy who couldn’t even get her to orgasm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I’ve been thinking...shall I make a Twitter account to keep you guys updated/interact with you/discuss ideas etc? Would you like that? 🤓🧐


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this chapter! I hope you like it as well 😊

To Bellamy, Thanksgiving didn’t particularly feel like a holiday. He didn’t have one big family to gather with, as his mother’s relatives lived all the way across the country and his father was...well. He  _ wasn’t _ . 

But he didn’t really mind. Every year it was just his mother, Octavia and him, and it felt like a normal day, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a slightly fancier meal, but nothing too over the top. They’d never been able to afford it, and he couldn’t be bothered anyways. It was just food. 

This year, however, Lincoln joined their small get-together in Aurora Blake’s townhouse. He didn’t mind, really. He had grown to like the man, respect him even. He was a couple of years older than him, which had made him question his motives with Octavia at first. Their mother, on the other hand, had welcomed him to the family with open arms. 

“What have you kids been up to?”, Aurora’s smile was as big as it could get as she poured some more wine in Lincoln’s glass. 

“Nothing new,” Octavia spoke first, “Well, actually. I’m thinking of quitting at The Dropship.”

“ _ What _ ?”, how come Octavia had never mentioned  _ this _ to him? 

She shrugged, “It’s a shitty pub.”

“Language, Octavia.”

“Sorry, mom,” she blushed, “Anyways. I don’t really like it there. I asked Pike if they could extend my shifts at the gym so I’m like,  _ really _ considering it.”

“That’s good, honey,” Aurora put her pale hand over her daughter’s, “Whatever works best, right? What about you, Bellamy?”

He took a bite of his mom’s succulent turkey (God, why was she such a good cook? She could probably make a living from it) before replying, “Work is...err. It’s tiring, but it’s going well,” he explained, “School is a bit more interesting. I like my subjects.”

Aurora smiled softly at her son, “I’m so proud of you, my love. I know you’ll pass with flying colours.”

“Me too,” Octavia nodded, “He’s a nerd. Like, a big one, mom. He already knows half of the stuff he’s studying for.”

Her smile didn’t fade away, “Oh well, what can I say? My boy is an intellectual.”

That earned a laugh from everyone, and Bellamy actually felt his cheeks getting warmer, “Lincoln? Any updates on the gallery?”, Aurora asked. 

“There’s not much to tell,” the man said. Bellamy eyed him carefully, “I’m actually thinking of opening my own gallery at some point, with one of my colleagues.”

“That’s wonderful!”, Aurora beamed, “When would that be?”

“Any time between tomorrow and the next three years,” Lincoln smirked. 

“I know he’s going to get there,” Octavia said, the same determination in her voice as when she talked about her brother, “He just...has  _ it _ . Whatever ‘it’ means.”

Bellamy silently agreed with her sister. Perhaps Lincoln hadn’t made the best first impression to him, but he was undoubtedly an intelligent and ambitious man. He was patient enough not to let himself get in the way of his goals, too. If only Octavia could learn a bit from him about that patience, Bellamy thought. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Aurora smiled, “So, that’s it? No gossiping or anything? Are those friends of yours...what were their names? Um,” she looked up at the ceiling, thinking, “Ah, yes! Emori and Murphy. Are they still together?”

Bellamy groaned, “Unfortunately,” he joked, “I love them but...jeez.”

“They’re noisy,” Octavia smirked, and took another bite of her turkey. 

Aurora laughed easily. Talking about such things with their mother had never been taboo in their household, “I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

He gave her a look, “I’d say you go there and see for yourself, but I don’t want to scar you for life.”

“Actually,” Octavia said, mouth full, “There’s a new girl in our friend group. Clarke. She’s Lincoln’s co-worker.”

Bellamy almost choked on his drink. Sure, they were friends (or whatever the hell they were doing now), but why did she always seem to be the topic of conversation when he was around? Why did Octavia, of all people, always bring her up?

Aurora hummed, “Oh, I see. Is she nice?”

Octavia smirked mischievously, “Ask your son.”

Bellamy would’ve kicked her under the table, but he was too busy trying not to turn red as a tomato right there and then. His mom looked at him, amused, and he wished the ground would just swallow him whole. 

“I didn’t like her at first,” he managed to let out, “But she’s alright.”

“Alright, yeah,” Octavia rolled her eyes, then looked at her mom, “They’re  _ best friends _ .”

“Clarke’s not my best friend,” he said. What had made her say that? They were close, but not  _ that _ much. They were close in other ways. 

Octavia ignored him, “Did you know that she fainted once, and Bellamy almost had a nervous breakdown and took her to the hospital?”, he could see Lincoln’s amused smile as she spoke, “And he didn’t even like her back then.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Bellamy,” Aurora smiled fondly at him, “Was she alright, though? What happened?”

The younger Blake waved her hand in front of her, “Nothing too bad. She was sick that day. All I’m saying,” she looked between her mother and her brother, “Is that, if you ever get married, I’m the one you should thank. I introduced them.”

“ _ Shit _ , O,” he was sure he was full on blushing right now, “I’m not  _ marrying _ Clarke, jeez. What makes you say that?”

“You practically hated her just last week,” she shrugged, “And now look at you. You’re pretty much attached to the hip. It wouldn’t really be that shocking if you started sleeping together or something.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, hiding his face on his hands. Why the fuck was his sister so blunt for? Discussing his love (or whatever) life in front of their  _ mother _ ? Didn’t she know what privacy was?

“Well,” Aurora started, visibly amused by the flustered state of her son, “If you’re going to marry her, at least bring her home just once. She sounds like a great girl to me, if she puts up with you two.”

Bellamy wanted to  _ die _ . Great, so now his mother thought, even if jokingly, that he had something for Clarke. He made a mental note to punch Octavia later. And, oh, how could he forget? Octavia wouldn’t even be surprised if they started sleeping together, apparently. Well, he had some fucking news for her.

It wasn’t as if he was going to tell her, though. Speaking about such topics with his sister (especially if they involved  _ him _ ) wasn’t something he particularly looked forward to. He didn’t even think she knew about Roma, which, fair enough. She had no reason to know about her. 

Roma was nice, really, but his mind had been racing for the past couple days and he didn’t know where it was going, or where he now stood with her. She had texted him a couple of times, but he just… he just wasn’t feeling it. And it scared him. It scared him because since when did he turn down good sex with a pretty girl? What the hell was up with him?

Just as he was about to fully dive into the deep black hole his mind had apparently now turned into, his phone buzzed on his pocket. He never checked his phone when he was having dinner with his mother, but hey, they owed him. He pulled it out discreetly from under the table, and saw a message from Clarke. 

_ ‘Please tell me your thanksgiving is going better than mine’ _

Well, wouldn’t she like to know?

* * *

Thanksgiving should be the most beautiful time of the year, probably, when used to channel our empathy for one another, to recall what living is truly about. But Clarke wanted to spit. 

Perfect families, perfect turkeys with their perfect stuffing. It was all about the napkins, the appetizers and the right choice of wine. Which, speaking of, she poured one more glass of the red poison, making it three drinks already. And dinner hadn’t even started yet. 

To be fair, the house did smell quite good. Jake Griffin was an astonishing cook, but he rarely got to prove it, so he always jumped at the chance when it came to family gatherings. Clarke tried to stick to him the whole time, but it proved to be quite difficult when the rest of her family arrived at their home. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family, but they could be a bit...too much. Her cousins were uptight, and never shut up about school and their meaningless achievements. They all studied to be lawyers, doctors, politicians. It didn’t go unnoticed how they looked down at her sometimes, because of her career choice. Whatever. They could go fuck themselves. They probably needed it. 

Her grandfather, his actual favourite family member, was no longer with them, so that was definitely a bummer. She always sat down with him, listened to whatever he wanted to tell her. Abby’s mother was a nice lady, really, but loved her booze a bit too much, and she was a nosy drunk. Her aunts weren’t much better. She was already waiting for the  _ ‘So, got any boyfriends yet? _ ’ dreaded questions, and the  _ ‘There’s this very nice young man at the firm who you’d just love’ _ insinuations. 

She guessed she couldn’t feel any worse than an orphan on Mother's Day, but it still sucked.

“Just ignore them,” her father chuckled, when she approached him in the kitchen, visibly running away from the annoying crowd with a disgusted face. 

“Easier said than done,” she rolled her eyes, and plopped down on a chair next to him, “Aunt Rose literally just asked me if my ‘lesbian phase’ was over yet? Dad, what the fuck?”

“Language,” he warned, “I know, sweetheart. They can be a little...conservative. But you only see them once a year, I know you are strong enough to get through it.”

She held her almost empty wine glass between her fingers, hoping she would just pass out drunk right then, “I shouldn’t have to be,” she muttered. 

Jake gave her an apologetic grin, and planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head, “I know, sweetheart. But your mom and I love you. That’s all that matters.”

Clarke looked up to her father, and gave him a weak smile. Her eyes lingered on his face for a moment, observing the faint wrinkles that were forming under his eyes. Jake Griffin was a handsome man, his welcoming features still intact and passing the test of time. There was something so familiar about him, something that screamed  _ home _ to her. Her father was her rock, her support, her hiding spot during Thanksgiving, her everything. 

She hugged him tightly before going back to the living room area, and directly into the pit of lions. When one of her cousins asked her whether she had regretted taking art already, she realised she’d had enough. Enough of this shit. 

Clarke excused herself, and climbed up the stairs and into her cold childhood bedroom. Her phone laid still on her bed, and she picked it up. Just some snaps from Raven and Wells, who had taken Sasha over to his father’s house during the holidays and couldn’t be more nervous about it. Clarke thought they were adorable. 

She hesitated before opening his chat. Their last conversation had just ended the night before, when she’d texted him she’d arrived home safe, and he’d sent her a thumbs up and a frog emoji, for some reason. Well, she had nothing to lose. 

_ ‘Please tell me your thanksgiving is going better than mine’ _

She sat down on her soft mattress, hoping he wouldn’t take too long to reply. 

_ ‘Could be better, but it’s been fun. Kinda. You?’ _

Great, so she was the only one feeling like shit. For a moment she wished she had a family like Bellamy’s - just her parents and her. She certainly couldn’t stand the thought of seeing all those people again next year. 

_ ‘Is it wrong to say I hate my family? Bc I kinda do’ _

She didn’t  _ hate _ them. Well, perhaps she did hate her Aunt Rose a little bit. Because, seriously, ‘lesbian phase’? Was she for real?

_ ‘Imagine having a whole ass family to hate. Can’t relate. Lol jk. What are you wearing’ _

Oh. 

Straight to the point, huh? She hesitated before pressing send. Perhaps she was misunderstanding his message. Or...perhaps not. It was Bellamy, after all. 

_ ‘White blouse, blue skirt. Fluffy slippers rn. Is that sexy?’ _

_ ‘Hard to tell without a picture’ _

She smirked - she liked where this was going. He was just asking for an innocent picture of her outfit. Nothing too obscene. She could do that. 

Clarke walked to the full-length mirror of her bedroom, and snapped a few shots before she decided a particular one looked decent enough. She knew he’d like anything she sent him, anyways. 

_ ‘Mmm. You look like such a good girl in that outfit. Such hot legs’ _

She involuntarily pressed her thighs together. He wanted to play? Fine. Two could play that game. 

_ ‘Not fair that I don’t get to know if you look like a good boy too or not’ _

A few moments later, she received a similar picture. He was wearing dark jeans and a knitted, grey sweater. Hair messy but not quite.  _ Fuck _ , he looked so good. She swallowed as her fingers typed on the screen. 

_ ‘Definitely getting bad boy vibes from this’ _

_ ‘Is that so? I can be good, too’ _

She bit her lip, knowing exactly what he was implying. However, picturing Bellamy being good for her proved to be quite difficult. He was too bossy, too possessive, and she doubted he’d ever been the submissive one in bed. And god, now she wanted to find out what it would be like. 

She pressed her legs together again, desperate to feel  _ something _ there. But she couldn’t, not with her family downstairs, anyway. She kind of wished she owned a vibrator, but again, she wouldn’t have brought it home for Thanksgiving. She wasn’t planning on sexting with Bellamy Blake, of all things. 

_ ‘You’ll have to prove it to me’ _

_ ‘What do you want?’ _

Clarke hesitated. Well, the damage was done. And she was horny as fuck, which meant her ability to make good decisions was completely inexistent. 

_ ‘Show me how my outfit is making you feel’ _

He didn’t reply right away, and it made her feel self-conscious. What if she had crossed a line? What if he thought she was being weird? Shit, she wouldn’t be able to look at him in the eye again. The thought of being rejected by Bellamy shouldn’t hurt so fucking much, she thought. 

But all her worries disipated when her screen lit up with a new message. It was a picture. 

Of his cock. 

“Shit,” she muttered, eyes glued on the phone. Had he just...sent her a nude?  _ Oh my god _ . 

He was holding his cock on his hand, the picture taken from above in what looked like a bathroom, and it was hard and thick and ready to be sucked. God, she wanted to suck him off so badly. She had never done it, but the sudden wetness between her legs made her almost cry for it. She didn’t hesitate as she typed back. His intentions were pretty clear, and she wanted hers to be as well. 

_ ‘Would love to put it in my mouth’ _

It didn’t take him more than twenty seconds to reply. 

_ ‘I bet my cock would look so fucking good wrapped around your pretty lips’ _

She need to get off,  _ now _ . She didn’t have a lock on her door, so that was an inconvenience. She opened it slightly, peering into the empty hallway, and heard voices downstairs. She crossed her fingers, hoping her parents wouldn’t notice she had been gone for too long. 

And she called him. 

“Yes?”, his voice sounded amused from the other line, and she almost wanted to punch him for it. He knew exactly what he was doing. 

“Listen, Bellamy,” she felt an uncommon rush of confidence as she spoke, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want you to touch yourself.”

He sounded taken aback by her command, “Now?”

“Perhaps you should’ve thought twice before sending me that picture.”

She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was smirking, “You like my cock, Princess?”

“I  _ love _ your cock, Bellamy,” she admitted. Was there any point in denying it now?, “I can’t stop thinking about it. How good you fucked me that day.”

She swore he groaned from the other line, “Lay down for me on your bed, baby girl. Legs open.”

His voice sent a shiver down her spine, and he sounded so commanding she couldn’t say no. She lifted her skirt up, and opened her legs up as Bellamy had told her, “All set?”, he asked. She hummed, “Good, now rub your clit for me. Slowly.”

“What about you?”, she croaked out. 

He chuckled, “Believe me, Princess. I’m jerking my cock off so fucking good at the thought of your pretty little pussy.”

She rubbed herself faster at that, pressing down at her core and pretending it was his tongue.  _ Fuck _ . A soft moan escaped her lips, and she had to remind herself that she couldn’t be too loud. 

“That’s it, touch yourself for me,” he said, voice rough from his own activities. She’d give everything to see how he touched himself in front of her, thinking about her.

“Are you thinking about me?”, she whispered, and immediately thought it was a pretty dumb question, but her brain wasn’t properly functioning right now. 

“ _ Shit _ , yeah,” he hissed, “How come we haven’t fucked since that day, huh? I need to fill your tight pussy again with my cock. Make it feel good.”

“Huh!”, she parted her lips as her pace quickened, unable to hold herself together any longer. The muscles on her calves threatened to pull, but she couldn’t stop. 

“Fuck, Clarke. I want you so fucking bad. Do you want me?”

“Y-Yes, Bellamy. Oh my god! I want you right now. I’m so close, Bell.”

His breath picked up as well, “Come for me, sweet thing. Pretend it’s my fingers on you, that’s it.”

“Oh my god!”, she was probably being loud as fuck, and she could only hope all the noise from downstairs would block her orgasm, “Bellamy!”

“Fuck, fuck. I’m going to come, babe. Shit.”

With one last moan, she reached her high, and her legs went completely still. Her fingers were soaked in her fluids, and she definitely needed a quick shower before presenting herself in front of her family again. 

But all of that didn’t really matter. Because she’d just had _phone_ _sex_ with Bellamy. 

“You alright?”, she asked him once she came back to her senses. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “That was fucking amazing. I had never done that before.”

For some reason, it caught her off-guard and she felt flustered, “Bellamy Blake? Not being experienced at something? That’s a sight.”

“Ha-ha,” he mocked, “It was fun.”

“It really was,” she agreed, although she was internally still freaking out in case her family had heard her. 

“I’m fucking you the second you come back to Arkadia, though.”

Her heart jumped, and she smirked, “In that case, I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed I’ve cheekily added an extra chapter to the story 👀 That’s because I’ve decided to split one chapter into two, so I can make them more meaningful and interesting. 
> 
> Also, today’s Eliza’s birthday! Can’t wait to see (if we ever get to see it 😅) what Bob has planned for her 🥺
> 
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated!
> 
> Happy reading 😊

Sex with Bellamy was just so… Well, there were really no words to describe it. 

He lived up to his promise, and Clarke didn’t even bother to stop at her own apartment when she drove back to Arkadia. His lips crashed into hers the second he opened the door, and she guessed their house must’ve been empty. There was no way he would be so comfortable with PDA if his roommates were around. Mainly, because they weren’t supposed to be hooking up in the first place. 

But whatever. Keeping their relationship a secret was kind of exciting, too. He picked her up easily, her legs wrapping around his torso, and lips attached in such a hungry way it almost felt like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, not just a day. Before she knew it, her back was pressed against the...couch?

“Bellamy,” she broke away the kiss, but his mouth attached to her neck instantly, biting on her skin softly, “ _ Bell _ .”

“Mm,” he mumbled.

“We’re doing it on the couch?”, she half-laughed, but inside she was rather freaked out to do it so in the open. What if Murphy or Miller came home? 

His smirk was playful, “Why? Scared of getting caught?,” he hid his face on her neck again, tracing soft kisses along her sensitive skin. 

“Actually, yeah,” she put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him away slightly.

“Come on, Princes,” he murmured, “Live a little, huh? I’m going to make you feel so good you’ll forget all about that.”

Well, if he put it like that. Clarke trusted him, and if he said it was going to be fine, then it probably would be. So she relaxed under his touch, and let her own hands roam around his defined back. 

The mere thought of his body was enough to make her feel completely incapacitated. There were no thoughts in her mind, no focus, only desire and the pain of waiting. She had gotten off to the thought of him the previous night at her parents’ home again, but it hadn’t been enough to calm her burning fire inside. 

Her sex drive had never been so high. Clarke liked sex, or at least she had enjoyed it with Lexa, but this was something else. Bellamy made her feel things she didn’t even know she was capable of experiencing. His touch was power and control, with a touch of silk. He was rough yet gentle, possessive yet encouraging, and her heart had never beaten so fast for anyone. 

He was her drug. One touch and the intoxication was instant. Just his scent sent her into a heavy trance, one that doesn't end until their bodies become one once more, warm and snuggled in as close as they can be.

Bellamy took a condom from the back pocket of his jeans, and she almost laughed at how prepared he was. Then, something in her mind clicked, and she put a hand on his arm to stop him. He looked at her, puzzled. 

“I told you I’d suck you off,” she smirked. 

His eyes widened for a second, and then his lips mimicked hers, “We’re in kind of a rush here, though,” he said, “I want you to take your time with my cock.”

She pouted, which only made him tighten his grip on her hip, “But soon?”

“I promise,” he whispered, and closed the gap between them again, capturing her soft lips into his. 

Every kiss she shared with Bellamy had a raw intensity to it - breathing fast, heart racing faster. Before she knew how it happened, they were naked from the waist down, and their skin was moving softly together. Tongues entwined, and then he's inside of her, changing her breathing with every thrust. And  _ shit _ . She had missed this so fucking much. 

He was eager, she could tell. Every thrust made her moan, and he grunted in response every time her walls contracted around him. She knew she was tight, and his cock was so hard she couldn’t still comprehend how it wasn’t tearing her apart. She made the mistake of wondering what he’d feel like fucking her raw, without a condom, because now she couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Bellamy moved his fingers downwards, hovering the sensitive skin of her clit, but didn't touch her quite yet, “Beg for it,” voice so low and rough it almost startled her. 

She just let out a moan, unable to articulate a proper response. But when his fingers didn’t move, she swallowed, “ _ Please _ , Bellamy. Make me come with your fingers.”

“That’s it, baby girl,” in seconds his fingers were on her, rubbing at her clit while he fucked her harder.

She felt electricity in her skin, hormones shutting down in her brain and the rise of her animal self. From there on in it was all passion, intensity, intoxication. And she couldn’t hold herself together any longer. 

Her walls contracted, and Bellamy must’ve known she was close, because he picked up the pace with his fingers, and started whispering those sweet nothings into her ear that got her so fucking horny every time. 

She almost screamed when she came down her high, and Bellamy pushed so hard into her as he came she felt it sting a little. But she was too damn satisfied to complain. 

“I missed this,” Bellamy breathed out, forehead pressed against her shoulder as he regained composure. 

“Me too,” she nodded, and went to put her arms around his neck when they heard the front door unlocking, and voices started sounding in the hallway. 

“ _ Shit _ ,  _ shit _ ,” Bellamy hissed, pulling out of her and searching for both of their jeans. 

Clarke managed to put hers on just barely as Murphy and Emori walked right into the living room area, his lively conversation stopping abruptly as their eyes laid on them. 

_ Fuck _ . 

Bellamy hadn’t had the time to put his jeans on, so he was covering his cock (condom and everything) with a cushion. Her jeans weren’t buttoned yet, but at least she wasn’t naked in front of Murphy. She shivered at the thought. 

“Well, well, well,” the man spoke, slowly, as a mischievous smile formed on his lips, “What do we have here?”

“Fuck off, Murphy,” Bellamy muttered, but Clarke thought nobody would take him seriously in his current state. She wanted to chuckle. 

“I knew you were fucking,” he laughed, “Octavia owes me $20.”

“Octavia  _ what _ ?”

“Speaking of her. Aren’t you glad it was us walking in on you and not your little sister?”, Murphy shook his head, clearly amused, “Next time you want to go at it like rabbits, remember you have a bedroom.”

* * *

She thought she probably shouldn’t have done it, and that she wasn’t being a decent human being in the slightest. Because every time he looked at him, her mind would cloud with images of Bellamy, her senses recalling how he always made her feel. And it wasn’t okay. 

But she couldn’t bring herself to say no when Finn asked her on a second date the following week, not through the phone. 

Clarke knew the right thing to do would be to break up with him. They weren’t even together as far as she knew, but she still needed to call it off. Guilt was eating her alive. 

And it wasn’t like she was cheating on anybody, but it felt like it. Bellamy and her had never talked about being exclusive (or Finn and her, for that matter). What were they, even? Friends with benefits? Was that something you should...talk about? Or did people just silently fell into that category? 

Finn had taken her on two actual dates, and he had been all nice and cute about it, but it was just…wrong. It was so wrong, because she knew she’d never be able to fully focus on him, on loving him and developing a real relationship with him, when Bellamy was always the sole owner of her mind. 

Where did that leave her? Finn surely couldn’t be the only person she’d date in her life, so what then? What would happen when she met someone else, and this exact scenario repeats itself? Will she never be able to forget Bellamy Blake?

Her head started spinning. Finn was just a few minutes away, and she knew there was no easy way to do this. He was probably excited about this date, hopeful even to move things forward. Hopeful about getting laid again, at least. But she was there to break up with him, and even though she knew it was the right thing to do, she still felt awful about it. 

She had chosen a cute cafe near campus this time, somewhere quiet and peaceful where things couldn’t get too out of hand. And if they did, well. She wouldn’t set foot on that place again, no big deal. 

He got there just in time, and she felt like the worst person on the planet when he planted a small kiss on her lips as hello. They sat down on a relatively quiet corner, and she was surprised to see that it was pretty crowded.

“How was your week?”, he smiled sweetly at her as they waited for their orders. He looked so damn cute and oblivious she wanted to rip her heart out just to stop feeling so fucking guilty. 

“Uneventful,” she lied. It had been eventful, alright. But not in the way he was probably expecting. 

She’d slept over at Bellamy’s twice, and they’d actually driven together to class, which had felt strangely domestic. And they had fucked again. Several times. In several positions. Although he still didn’t let her suck him off, which was a bit weird. She thought he’d appreciate some oral sex, but whatever. Overall, she was in no position to complain. 

But Finn didn’t need to know that. 

He kept the conversation going for the most part, talking about how messy his roommates were and how much he hated Ancient History. 

“Wait,” she blinked, “You’re a History major?”

“Well, yeah,” he chuckled, and she almost felt bad for not knowing. They had been studying together for weeks, and she didn’t even know what degree he was doing. It only confirmed how little she actually cared about him, how little she was bothered to get to know him better, even if it hurt to admit it. No one deserved that. 

But then, it clicked in her mind. He was Bellamy’s  _ classmate _ . Fuck. Did they know each other? They probably didn’t though, given how Bellamy kept insisting that his name was Flynn. And it made sense, because Bellamy was in his first year, while Finn was months away from graduating. She visibly relaxed. For some reason, the mere possibility of them knowing each other had made her go into full-panic mode. 

When he started talking about this incredible new restaurant they totally needed to try out, she knew it was enough. Enough of making him hopeful. It was cruel, and it was unnecessary. And it wouldn’t be the end of the world, really - she was pretty sure she wasn’t the love of his life, and he quite obviously wasn’t the love of hers. 

“Finn,” she started slowly, a soft smile on her lips.  _ Go easy _ , “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

He seemed to tense at that, “About what?”

She breathed in and out.  _ Okay, tell him the truth, it’s alright _ . She kept trying to convince herself that it was the right thing, but it didn’t make things any easier. 

“I love spending time with you,” she said, because it was true. Finn was a great guy, just...not for her. 

“Okay,” he nodded, slowly, probably knowing where the whole thing was going. 

This was it. She could do it. 

“But I don’t think we could...you know, work like that.”

The noise around them seemed to get a lot louder once those words left her mouth. Her throat went dry, her palms sweaty, and she had never felt so bad in her life. Finn seemed to genuinely like her, and she was breaking things up because of what? Because of Bellamy? A guy who was her biggest hater just a month ago? She wondered then if she had made a mistake. 

“I understand,” Finn spoke after what seemed like an eternity. His voice was calm, but his face had visibly dropped, “Can I ask why?”

That was the thing. She couldn’t tell him, “I’m just not ready for something more,” she opted for, which wasn’t exactly a lie. 

“Is there someone else?”

She gulped, “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why do you keep insisting?”

Finn sighed, and ran a hand through his long hair, “It’s just weird, Clarke. Like, I respect your decision, but it came out of nowhere. We were fine just last week, and nothing really happened between us until now.”

_ That’s kind of the problem _ . 

“There’s nothing shady going on,” which was a total lie, but oh well, “I’ve just realised things, nothing more.”

Clarke knew this was probably for the best. Finn wouldn’t waste his time with her, and she wouldn’t feel like the worst person alive for leading him on and then spending her nights in Bellamy’s bed. 

But it was a little awkward after that. Finn’s excitement clearly wore off, and she tried to carry the conversation until she couldn’t anymore. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be there, and she couldn’t blame him. 

“I’d still love a study partner, you know,” she smiled genuinely as they left the cafe.

Hands on his pockets, he smiled awkwardly at her, “We’ll see.”

She took her phone out the moment they parted ways. She needed to distract her mind, scroll through Instagram or even read emails. Anything. However, when she looked at the screen, she saw she had two missed calls from Wells. Arching a confused eyebrow, she dialed his number. 

“Hey,” he said from the other line, “Were you busy?”

“Kinda,” she swallowed, remembering the daunting scenario. She’d never step foot on that cafe again, “What’s up?” 

“My dad just called to remind me of the reunion.”

Reunion. Right. This was probably something she should know about. 

“Um, sorry Wells. I’m not really at my best right now. What reunion?”, she asked. 

“Oh, you know, the reunion your parents have hosted every year for literally the past 20 years,” he half-chuckled, and then it clicked. 

“ _ Oh _ . Fuck, sorry. I forgot about that,” she scratched her head nervously, and started making her way to her car. 

“I could tell,” he smirked, “Remember it’s this weekend. Also, do you mind if I bring Sasha this year? My dad insists.”

The Griffin-Jaha reunion had been one of the most eventful days of the year for the past 20 years. A day between Thanksgiving and Christmas in which both families would gather together (in a rather fancy way) and update each other on pretty much everything. And although Clarke and Wells went to the same campus together and Thelonious and her parents saw each other quite frequently, the tradition hadn’t died down. 

It had been just the five of them since Well’s mother passed away, and now Sasha was going to be an addition. Which didn’t bother her, of course not. Wells was happy with her, and Clarke was happy for him. It wasn’t that. 

“Of course I don’t mind, Wells,” she said. 

It was just that she was going to feel like a pathetic third wheel the whole time. 

She set a reminder to go home on Friday evening and headed to her apartment. So, she was now a horrible ex-girlfriend and a horrible friend.  _ Great _ . 

She was happy for Wells, really. But her selfish mind couldn’t stop imagining the dreadful scenarios of that weekend, alone and pathetic as the adults talked about whatever boring stuff they always talked about and Wells and Sasha did... _ things _ . She could already see the pity in their eyes as they included her into their conversations, just because she was alone and pathetic. 

Did she mention she was going to be alone and pathetic? 

Her bed was the only thing on her mind as she walked across the lobby, and she couldn’t wait to forget about Finn. About Bellamy. About the reunion. About  _ everything _ . 

Just as she was going to open the door, her phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down at the screen. A message from Octavia, probably inviting her over or something. Great. Yet another person she’d have to disappoint that day. She unlocked the screen and opened her chat.

_ ‘Please tell me you didn’t fuck my brother in his couch’ _


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was honestly one of my favourite chapters to write 🥺
> 
> Happy reading! 
> 
> Kudos and feedback are always appreciated!

“So your study partner ditched you, huh?”

“Try not to be too excited about it.”

Bellamy laughed, and climbed out of the driver’s seat of his truck. He adjusted the grip on his worn backpack before casually throwing an arm around Clarke’s shoulders, “You’re lucky I cleared my schedule for you, then,” he smirked, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his smugness. 

“Please,” she teased, “Just admit you were dying to come to the library with me and shut up.”

“Ah yes,” he laughed, “I’m dying to see how the librarian finally kicks you.”

“Dumbass,” she muttered, but couldn’t hide her amused smile. 

They reached the library building just as a few raindrops started falling from the grey sky. Bellamy held the door open for her, “After you, Princess.”

She hesitated, but walked through the door nonetheless. Just as Bellamy closed it behind him, she smirked, “Are you really that much of a gentleman, or did you just need an excuse to look at my ass?”

“I don’t need an excuse to look at your ass, babe,” his voice was so rough, so low, Clarke pressed her thighs together. 

Her cheeks turned bright red, and in that moment he knew he had won at her own game. His large hand rested on the small of her back as they made their way into one of the study rooms, and Clarke was careful not to make eye contact with the librarian. She surely didn’t need to get into more trouble. 

An hour later, Clarke found herself massaging her throbbing temples as she glanced at yet another flash card. The words seemed to blur together. She blinked rapidly and pressed her forehead onto the card, as if that could imprint it in her memory. She groaned and leaned back in her chair, looking up at the old and musty ceiling before forcing her gaze back down to the table. She stifled a yawn and rubbed her bleary eyes. Her thoughts became groggy and incoherent. 

She nudged Bellamy on his arm, making him look at her through his thick glasses, “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, more dramatically than she intended. 

Bellamy only chuckled at her, and glanced at the time on his phone, “Just one more hour, okay? I need to catch up on a few chapters.”

She sighed, but ultimately nodded and directed her attention back to her flash cards and her notes. The next hour was going to be pure torture. 

Bellamy tried to focus on the book in front of him, but he struggled to understand what he was reading, and he ended up going over the same sentence over and over again. He couldn’t concentrate, how could he? This was the first time they studied together, and there was some kind of weird intimacy about it that made his chest hurt a little. 

She was too fucking adorable for her own good. Seriously. He never thought he’d use the world ‘adorable’ to describe any girl, but there he was. Drooling over someone who didn’t see him as anything but as a friend. He did, too - see her as a friend. Of course. Seeing her as anything else would be weird. Right? 

But she was sitting next to him, forehead frowned and desperation evident in her face, and he couldn’t help but smirk. There was no way he could get anything done like that. 

It certainly didn’t help that, a few moments later, she rested her hand on his tight, innocently at first, eyes still glued to her notes. He decided to ignore her. If that was what she wanted, she’d have to work for it. 

Sure enough, her hand soon moved downwards across his thigh, caressing him over his jeans and pressing her nails into his skin. He looked up around him. They were alone in the study room, but they certainly weren’t alone in the library. Their seats were facing the door of the room, and part of the adherent walls were made of glass. Anyone could easily look into the room and see what was going on. But for some reason, it only made him hornier. 

He grabbed her wrist just as she was making her way towards his crotch, “What are you doing?”

Clarke’s smirk didn’t fade away, “Helping you study.”

He arched an eyebrow, “Do you think jerking me off would really help me here?”

“I wasn’t thinking about jerking you off,” she said, and resumed her activity between his legs. He felt himself getting hard under her touch, and  _ fuck _ . He wanted her so badly. 

“Let me suck your cock, Bell,” she whispered into his ear, and his erection couldn’t be hidden any longer. 

He didn’t object, didn’t even manage to let out the words. She reached for his belt and unbuckled it in a swift move, then paused at the waistband of his jeans, looking up at him. He closed his eyes in anticipation, unable to do anything else. Was she really going to do it? Suck him off right there,  _ in public _ ? Bellamy couldn’t say he hated the idea. They had been caught by Murphy of all people already - so fuck it. 

She kept looking at him as she unbuttoned his fly, pulled the zipper down. He helped her lower his jeans a little, just below his ass. She reached into his boxers, stroking him briefly there before taking his whole length out, and now that she had to put it in her mouth it somehow looked bigger and thicker. 

Clarke froze, afraid to touch him, afraid to try something dumb or that won’t feel good on him. He had been so good to her, what if she couldn’t live up to his expectations? Not to mention that he’d probably been given lots of amazing blowjobs already. She could have at least taken the time to look up how to give a blowjob before throwing herself at him. 

“Take your time,” Bellamy whispered roughly, although she thought that perhaps they were in kind of a rush, given that they were in a public library and all, “I’ll guide you. You’ll do well.”

So she took his word for it, and decided she didn’t have to suck him off  _ just yet _ . She glanced briefly to the outside situation - luckily, the library wasn’t particularly crowded, and no one went back there anyway. She relaxed, and focused her attention back where he wanted it to be. 

But Bellamy couldn’t relax, not when she took his cock in her small hand, stroking it a little. She looked so damn innocent while doing so he wanted to grunt. But he couldn’t make a noise. It wouldn’t end well for either of them if they got caught. She was barely moving, just moving her fist up and down in a careful motion. A drop of pre-cum came out the little slit at the top, and she wiped it off with the tip of her tongue. 

_ Fuck _ . 

He couldn’t stop himself as he grabbed the back of her hair tightly, locking her between his hand and his cock. He felt a sudden wave of possessiveness when she whimpered from his rough grip, but he quickly reminded himself he needed to be gentle. This time. 

She leaned down, hair pulled back by his hand, and started by licking the head, tasting him there tentatively. She didn’t think it tasted like anything really, just skin, but it was  _ him _ . She was sucking  _ his _ cock, and that was enough to make her think like it was the most delicious thing ever. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Am I doing alright?”, Clarke asked, as her hand still jerked his cock up and down. Did she really expect him to talk in that state?

“Mm,” he managed to let out, tightening the grip on her hair so that she would hopefully get the message that it felt  _ so fucking good _ . 

Clarke thought he was too big for her hand, so that he’d probably be too big for her mouth as well, but she slid it in without hesitation or fear, the tip of it anyway, and started moving downward on him. And  _ fuck, he’s big _ . It wasn’t so much about the length, but the thickness - her jaw expanded with his cock, and it actually hurt a little to have him there. 

As Clarke’s mouth worked wonders on him, Bellamy struggled to believe she had never given a blowjob before, because  _ shit _ . She was  _ good _ . He didn’t need to tell her to watch her teeth, and the rhythm she settled for was doing it for him. Her mouth mimicked what her hand had been doing, a steady up-and-down movement, her fingers wrapped around him at the base. He noticed she wasn’t going all the way down, and so he pulled his hips up slowly as he lowered her head on him, the sudden desire of hearing her gag on his cock blocking all his senses. 

His whole length, mixed with his thickness, became too much, and she choked on him. Her throat closed at the sensation, trapping the tip of his cock with it, and he moaned in pleasure. Clarke froze. Had he been too loud?

He looked outside again, but nothing had changed, “We’re good,” he whispered, “You’re doing so good, babe. Sucking my cock like that,  _ fuck _ .”

She smirked internally. There he was. Bellamy was very talkative in bed, and she thought she’d find it weird at first, but now that he’d been quiet she missed it like crazy. He always whispered sweet nonsense into her ear, the dirtiest of statements leaving his mouth. Okay, she had a praise kink, and so what? It was difficult not to, especially when Bellamy was so fucking good at dirty talk. 

Her head started bobbing up and down faster, adding a little twist to her grip he wasn’t expecting, “ _ Fuck _ ,” he muttered, and absentmindedly jerked his hips up, making her gag again. But she didn’t stop, and continued to suck him off at a vicious speed, her lips reaching the base of his cock and choking as they did so, and Bellamy thought he was going to pass out. 

“Christ, your mouth feels so fucking good, Princess,” he breathed out, suppressing a moan at the back of his throat. 

He didn’t think he’d last much longer, and panic started rushing into him. There was no way he could walk out of the library with an erect and throbbing cock, but where the hell would he come? 

Almost as if Clarke had read his mind, she unwrapped her swollen lips from his cock, and whispered roughly, “Come on my mouth, Bell.”

“ _ Fuck _ , Clarke,” he groaned, “Are you for real?”

He felt her nod, “I’ll swallow.”

_ Shit _ . He couldn’t stop himself as he pulled her head back down on his cock, and she took him in immediately, going back to her previous pace. Suddenly he wished they were in another position, one where he would be able to see himself spilling into her, mouth full of his cum, watch her swallow every drop. The mere thought of it sent him into oblivion, until he couldn’t hold himself together any longer. 

His breath grew more rapid and he said, “I’m going to come, Clarke.”

She hummed in response, the vibration sending him over the edge. His cock got bigger and harder in her tight throat, and his whole body went stiff as he released inside her mouth. He tightened the grip on her hair, holding her head into place, and he could only imagine what the sensation would be like for her. He hoped it wasn’t too unpleasant, because  _ god _ . He needed her to do that for him again. 

He started to go soft in her mouth and fist, and she let go of him, “Okay, okay.  _ Fuck _ , Clarke. Are you okay?” 

She pulled herself back on her seat again, slowly, and her lips were upwards in a small smile when she looked at him. He visibly relaxed, “Did you like that?”

“Fuck, yes, babe,” he half-laughed, and noticed that her mouth was surprisingly clean, “Did it feel good for you?”

“Strangely, it did,” she said, “Seeing you all worked up does things to me, you know?”

He smiled in response, and  _ god _ , she just couldn’t be real, “You’re amazing,” he said, without thinking, but he didn’t feel embarrassed. It was the truth. 

She only blushed in response, quickly averting her gaze to her bag, and taking something out of it, “Want a mint?”, he looked at the tiny package in her hand, and wondered if she had premeditated sucking him off after all. The mere possibility was making his cock twitch again. He nodded. 

“I guess our study session is over, huh?”, he joked as they both sat down on their chairs. There was no fucking way he could go back to his notes after that. He took a look at the library area in front of them. Everything seemed normal. 

“I’d say so,” she chuckled.

“Come on, then,” he patted her thigh as he stood up, “In the mood for burgers? I’m a great cook.”

She smiled up at him, and this time her eyes looked different, for some reason. He liked it, “Absolutely up for it.”

Leaving the library proved to be a difficult task, and Bellamy felt strangely self-conscious as they walked to the front door. No one was even looking at them, which he thought was a good thing, but in his mind he couldn’t stop thinking about the filthy thing that had just happened right there. 

“Not that I’m complaining,” he started, once they stepped out in the cold and wet exterior, “But why didn’t you come with Finn?”

“You learned his name,” she teased him, and he nudged her in response. He wasn’t going to tell her that he knew it all along, that he even knew the guy personally (he was in one of his classes), and that he’d only called him Flynn because…well. Just because. 

“I kind of, um, called it off with him? I don’t know,” she said, and he pretended his heart hadn’t just jumped inside of his chest. 

“Why?”, he asked. 

Clarke shrugged, “I felt bad for him,” they reached his car, and she climbed easily into the passenger seat. It felt so natural now, he thought, driving up and down town with her, “I mean, I know we haven’t talked about being exclusive or anything, but it just didn’t feel right to hang out with him like that and then doing…,” she gestured to the library building far away, and chuckled, “ _ That _ with you.”

He started the engine, “I get it,” his throat went dry, and he didn’t want to confront the fact that he hadn’t wanted to see Roma all week, and now Clarke had dumped this Finn guy because they were, what? Sleeping together? 

“So, yeah,” she said awkwardly, shifting on her seat, “I don’t… I don’t want you to…,” she sighed, “Nevermind.”

He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her, “No, say it.”

“It’s okay.”

“You know it’s not.”

“Just leave it.”

“ _ Clarke _ .”

“Bellamy.”

He stopped at a red light, and didn’t hesitate as he leaned over the slim space between them, and crashed his lips into hers. It had been too long, too fucking long since her mouth was on his, and he couldn’t take it any longer. He parted her lips with his tongue and hers responded immediately, tangling with his in one of the hottest, most rushed kisses he’d ever had. When the car behind them honked, they pulled away abruptly. 

They drove in silence until the next red light (he had never been so damn happy about a red light in his life), and he pulled her to him again. The kiss was shorter, but equally as hungry, “Say it, Clarke,” he whispered as he pulled away, foreheads pressed together, his hand tangled yet again at the back of her hair. 

She let out a soft sigh, “I don’t want to scare you away with that Finn stuff,” she said, voice low, “We’ve never talked about being exclusive.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep with other people?”, he asked without thinking, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to sleep with Roma anymore, he knew it now. Knowing that Clarke didn’t want to sleep with Finn, either, had done something to him. He didn’t know what it was, and it was pissing him the fuck off. 

“I don’t want to sleep with other people, either,” she said, shyly. 

“Then we don’t,” the car in front of them started moving, but his eyes were still on hers, trying to decipher what that look meant. 

She nodded slowly, “We don’t.”

“Good,” he released the grip on her hair, and kept driving. 

Clarke’s head was spiralling down a hole of confusion as they went back home in silence. So, Bellamy didn’t want to sleep with anybody else. Okay. No need to freak out. But it meant...it meant she was  _ enough _ . It meant he thought she was everything he needed, at least in bed. And  _ god _ , he was all she needed too. 

A sudden idea crept into her brain, and she tried to shake it off before it was too late. It was stupid, anyway. He would never say yes to something like that and she’d probably scare him off. He didn’t look too freaked out by the idea of being exclusive (were they officially friends with benefits now?), but this would be going too far. She’d be asking too much of him.

However, when he parked in front of his house and turned off the engine, her hand involuntarily grabbed his wrist, and she panicked.  _ Shit _ . 

“Everything okay?”, he asked, eyebrow arched in confusion. 

She swallowed. She could come up with something and avoid the embarrassment. But her brain wasn’t functioning, and there was only one thing in her mind. 

“I kind of want to ask you for a favour,” she said, perhaps a bit too quickly.  _ He’s going to say no _ . 

He frowned, “Sure, Princess. What do you need?”

_ I need too much _ . 

“There’s…,” she started, but was too embarrassed to continue. She couldn’t stand the thought of being rejected by Bellamy. But then he reached for her hand and squeezed it, which made her look up at him. His smile was encouraging, welcoming. She could do this. 

“There’s this reunion this weekend,” she looked down at her lap, unable to hold his intense stare, “It’s something small, between my family and Wells and his father. You remember Wells, right?”

He hummed. He’d seen Wells a couple of times, and she didn’t know what he thought of him, but Wells seemed to like him well enough. 

“Well, um, this year he’s bringing his girlfriend and I…”, god, she felt so stupid saying it out loud. Was she being childish?, “I guess I don’t want to be the third wheel and…,” there was no easy way of asking this. She took a deep breath, “Would you come with me?”

“Sure.”

She blinked in surprise, “ _ Sure _ ?”

Bellamy chuckled, “Yeah. You want me there, right? So I’ll be.”

Clarke’s heart was racing in her chest, “Do you realise it's going to be with my family, right?”

“Well, yeah,” he smiled, “I’ve already met your mother, remember?”

Oh, she remembered, alright. And she also remembered how her dad had teased her about him all those weeks ago, and now  _ she _ was the one freaking out about it. 

“I’m sure it’ll be alright,” he said, and prepared to exit the car, “Parents love me,” he smirked. 

“Do they, huh?”, she mimicked his smirk. 

He winked at her, “You’ll see for yourself, Princess.”

She couldn’t believe he wasn’t even a bit freaked out about the situation. She had basically asked him to meet her parents, at a rather important day in the calendar for them. God, they’d probably think he was her boyfriend. What would she say to them?

However, she didn’t have much time to dwell about it. As soon as Bellamy opened the door, a female voice could be heard from the living room, asking ‘Is it them?’, and then it was all a blur. 

“You two!”, Octavia appeared in the hallway, an accusatory finger pointed at them. Her expression looked serious, but Bellamy knew she was trying not to smile, “You owe me twenty bucks!”

Bellamy put his hands up in the air, “Don’t shoot, O,” he half-chuckled, “What’s all this about?” 

Clarke panicked, remembering her text.  _ Shit _ . 

“I can’t look at you again,” she said dramatically, holding her hands up against her eyes, “I can’t sit on that couch ever again!”

“What?”, Bellamy frowned until his mind clicked. And then, “Murphy! You son a bitch! Where the fuck are you?” 

He strolled quickly down the hall in the direction of Murphy’s room, Clarke guessed, but she couldn’t move. Fuck, was Octavia mad at her? 

The younger Blake looked back at her brother, long gone into who knows where, and then looked at Clarke, an easy smile on her lips. Clarke frowned, “I’m not angry,” she said. 

The blonde nodded, slowly, “T-Thank you.”

“Just,” she walked over to her, and spoke in an awfully unusual quiet voice, “Just take care of him, alright? I know he can be an ass sometimes, but he’s a softie. He has a big heart.”

Clarke felt her cheeks burning, and she could only nod. She remembered having called him heartless once, at The Dropship. She couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Octavia linked her arms together, “Good,” she said, “Now let’s not talk about this ever again. I genuinely can’t even look at that stupid couch right now.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is BIG (and long), and certainly a turning point in the story.
> 
> Happy reading! 😊

Clarke decided to leave first thing Saturday morning. For a moment she considered going the previous evening, just like Wells and Sasha had planned to do, but the less time they spent with her parents, the better. She picked Bellamy up at his house and they hit the road, anxiety clinging to her chest the whole ride there. 

All the reasons not to do this came flooding in shortly, and she couldn’t think straight. She thanked herself for knowing the way to Polis by heart, or else she would’ve probably gotten lost at least ten times by now. Bellamy was sitting back, relaxed, on the passenger seat, as he scrolled through his phone and changed the music every few songs. 

She hadn’t slept all night. Well, she had, but if she’d stayed up all night it would have made no difference to her exhaustion. A hundred scenarios had occupied her mind ever since he had agreed to come with her. What was she thinking, proposing such a dumb idea? 

“So,” Bellamy spoke when they were barely twenty minutes away from Clarke’s house, according to the GPS. His voice was relaxed, smug even, “What are we going to tell your parents?”

Her grip on the wheel tightened, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he smirked.

She knew, alright. She just wanted not to think about it, which wasn’t a realistic possibility. But oh well. 

“I’ll tell them you’re a friend,” she opted for. It was the truth, after all. 

“Alright.”

She thought about how it would go. Thelonious would probably ask him a million questions, just because that was what he always did. Wells would perhaps freak out a little - she had totally forgotten to tell him Bellamy was coming. Sasha would be nice and polite to him, and her parents…

_ Shit _ . 

There was no way they would buy this “friendship” thing, even if it was for once the truth. One didn’t just...bring friends to the Griffin-Jaha reunion. She could have easily invited Raven the previous years, and Wells could have invited whoever he was friends with, but they hadn’t. Because it was a family thing, an official kind of thing. And now Sasha was going to be there, of course, since she was Well’s girlfriend and that was pretty official. 

But Bellamy… he couldn’t go as her friend. It would be too out of place. They would think she was lying about their relationship status, and that would only make things more awkward. Or worse, her parents would give her a hard time for it because one just didn’t invite friends to this thing. 

She wanted to scream. 

“Um, actually,” she panicked, “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

Clarke explained her thought-process to him, and she wasn’t sure he had completely understood where she was coming from, but he nodded anyways. 

“So I’m your boyfriend,” he concluded. 

_ Well, shit.  _ When he put it like that, it was difficult not to imagine what the real thing would be like, and she didn’t want to dwell on that possibility. 

She felt anxious as she spoke, “I guess you are,” her voice was barely a whisper, “I mean, if you’re okay with that,” she quickly added. 

“I’m okay with it,” he assured her. But god, he was panicking inside.

It wasn’t about pretending to be her boyfriend, not really. That shouldn’t be too complicated, right? But he couldn’t forget how much of a fucking ass he’d been to her, how badly he’d treated her when they first met. It was embarrassing to think about. And now he was going to meet _her_ _family_. 

Bellamy felt like an awful person. Even though she had forgiven him, and they were obviously okay with each other, he thought she was still too good for him. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven, not after cutting her off like that and for no reason, not after speaking so horribly to her. A black hole formed on his chest, and his breath picked up. 

“Clarke,” his voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat when she gave him a quizzical look, “I’m sorry, again. For our early days.”

She half-chuckled, “I told you you’re forgiven, Bellamy. What’s this about?”

He couldn’t tell her. The words couldn’t leave his mouth, or they’d feel real again, “Just checking,” he smiled. 

“Don’t be dumb,” she squeezed his thigh quickly. God, why did he feel the urge to hold her hand so badly? Would he...would he be allowed to hold her hand in front of her parents, while pretending to be her boyfriend and all? Because  _ fuck _ , he wanted to. 

He decided to stay quiet and let his own thoughts eat him alive until they reached her house. And _holy_ _shit_. Bellamy had never used the word “breathtaking” to describe a home, yet there he was. The Griffin household was massive yet discrete, the front garden full of flowers and well-kept grass. Huge windows, beautiful white brick. There were two cars parked in the driveway already. 

Suddenly, it started feeling too real. He was going to meet  _ her parents _ . And while he’d already met her mother, and she’d been nice enough to him, he still had to meet her dad. And that scared him to death. 

“Freaking out yet?”, Clarke teased him as she turned off the engine. 

“Kind of,” he admitted, “Do you think they’ll like me?”

Clarke gave him a soft smile, and held his hand on hers, “I like you, so they will, too.”

He arched a playful eyebrow, “You like me, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” she rolled her eyes, hitting his arm with the same hand that had been holding his, “You  _ don’t _ like me? You kind of have to, though, being my fake boyfriend and all.”

He smirked, “I like you, Princess.”  _ Perhaps too much for my own good.  _

“Great,” she winked at him, “Let’s go, then.”

The cold Polis air hit his face the moment he stepped out of her car, and he started shivering, more because of the situation than because of the weather. He retrieved his bag from the backseat (he had just packed a shirt and some not-old-looking-and-overly-worn jeans), and swinged it easily over his shoulder, following Clarke to the front door of her house. 

“Okay,” she whispered when they reached the closed door, and she let out a heavy sigh, as if bracing herself for what was coming, “We’ve been together for two months. We met through Octavia. You can touch me, just...control yourself, Blake,” she half-smiled. 

“I see it’s all under control, huh?,” he took her hand in his, feeling an unexpected burst of warmth in his chest when their skins touched. He squeezed it, “Let’s do this. It will be fine.”

Clarke nodded, sighed again, and rang the doorbell. This was it, there was no looking back. He could do this. 

Just a few seconds later, the door swung open, and Bellamy’s sight went blurry for a moment. A tall blond man, Clarke’s dad, he assumed, stood in front of them with the widest smile he had ever seen.

“Dad,” Clarke released his grip from him and hugged the man in front of her, tightly. Bellamy inhaled a sharp breath. If Mr. Griffin didn’t like him, it was over for him. 

“How are you, champ?”, he rubbed her back eagerly before his eyes travelled to him.  _ Shit shit shit _ , “You must be Bellamy,” he smiled, and pulled away from his daughter to shake his hand. He tried to give a firm handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Sir,” he said, “And thank you for having me here.”

“Our pleasure,” the man said, his big smile never fading away, “And please, call us Jake and Abby.”

Bellamy nodded, unable to let the words out. Clarke sensed his tension, and was quick to react, “Let’s go inside, it’s freezing.”

“Of course,” Jake stepped aside so Bellamy and Clarke could come into the house, “Abby! They’re here!”

Sure enough, a woman Bellamy remembered from that dreadful day at the hospital emerged into the hallway, and immediately pulled her daughter into a warm embrace, “I’m so happy to see you, Clarke,” she sighed, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” she half-laughed.

“Well, just take care, alright?”, she looked concerned as she scanned her face (something Bellamy noticed she had a tendency of doing). Then, she seemed to notice his presence, “Oh! Bellamy! It’s so nice to see you, dear.”

Much to his surprise, Abby Griffin pulled him into a tight hug as well, “Thank you so much for taking care of her that day.”

“It was nothing,” he said, pretty sure he was blushing like crazy. 

“Ah yes, I knew your name sounded familiar,” Jake chuckled, “I’m sorry, Bellamy, my daughter can be a bit of a pain.”

“Dad!”, Clarke smacked his arm, but she was laughing too. 

“I won’t fight you on that one,” Bellamy said, almost absentmindedly, and for a second he panicked, thinking that perhaps he’d gotten too comfortable too soon. But both Jake and Abby laughed, and Clarke sent him a death glare he could easily identify as amused. 

“Why don’t you go freshen up a bit?”, Abby suggested, “The Jahas are coming in a couple of hours.”

As he followed Clarke up the stairs to her room, he took a moment to scan the interior of the house. It was welcoming from the open door to the wide hallway. Upon the walls were the photographs of the family, wide smiles on their faces as they posed in front of different backgrounds. The ocean, the mountains, a city, a zoo… He thought they must have visited the whole planet. 

But a certain picture hanging on the stairs caught his eye, and he couldn’t help himself, “Is this you?”, he smiled, although the little blonde girl in the picture was quite obviously Clarke. 

She looked back at him, then at the picture he was pointing at, and chuckled, “Don’t look at that,” she said, embarrassed. 

It was a picture of her, couldn’t be older than 3 or 4, dressed up in a princess costume and her face full of cake mix. His chest combusted at the sight. 

“I guess I was right all along about the Princess thing,” he smirked. 

“Shut up,” she took his arm and pulled him up the stairs behind her, making him laugh. 

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Princess. You were pretty cute.”

She arched an amused eyebrow, “Is that a compliment I’m hearing?”

“Oh, please. I give you compliments all the time,” he smirked. 

She hummed as she opened the door to her bedroom, and  _ wow _ . Just wow. Bellamy was sure his jaw had fallen open quite literally as he stared at the four walls around him. Her room was  _ gigantic _ . It had a queen-sized bed, an enormous closet, and a lot of painting supplies she obviously didn’t use anymore. Her windows almost went from the ceiling to the floor, and she had a plushy window sill with books on it. He went to scan those. 

“Pride and Prejudice?”, he half-chuckled, picking the book up.

“Not the Ancient Rome nerd shaming me for my reading choices,” she teased. 

“Wasn’t shaming you, Princess,” he smiled, and shuffled through the pages, “I’ve never read it. Is it good?”

“You can borrow it if you’d like, and see for yourself.”

His eyes widened, “Really?”

“Of course, Bell,” she walked towards him, “You can take as many books as you’d like.”

He didn’t know why, but he didn’t question it either, as he slowly leaned forward and planted a small kiss on her forehead. It caught her off-guard, he could tell, because her cheeks had acquired that rosy tone that made her look so fucking adorable. 

There was no point in asking himself why his heart rate picked up or why his stomach flipped every time she was around him. Not anymore. To him, it was pretty fucking obvious now. And he was terrified. 

* * *

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He already knew this was kind of a formal event, despite being held in their house, and that’s why he had cleaned up nicely, white shirt and all. But  _ god _ . She looked breathtaking. 

Clarke stood straight in a short, yet modest black dress that hugged each and every one of her curves. Her hair was up on a messy, yet elegant looking low bun, strands of blonde hair falling out around her face. And her skin looked so smooth he couldn’t wait until they were alone to run his fingers carefully over it. He had never felt such an intense urge to hold her. 

“So, Bellamy, what do you do?”

He snapped back into reality as the man in front of him, Thelonious Jaha, spoke in such a deep voice it almost startled him. Wells and Jake were pouring some more drinks in the kitchen behind them. 

He took a sip of his wine before responding, “I’m currently working and studying a History degree.”

Thelonious widened his eyes, obviously impressed, “Oh wow,” he smiled, “That must take up a lot of your time.”

“I handle it well,” he said. 

“Still,” Thelonious nodded, “It’s an accomplishment. Your parents must be really proud of you.”

“Here, Bellamy, have some more,” Jake appeared behind him, wine bottle in hand, before he could respond to Wells’ father. 

“Thank you,” he smiled. 

“Bellamy’s a badass,” Wells stumbled into the conversation, clearly a bit drunk for his own good. He looked at Jake, “He fixed Clarke’s dishwasher once. That’s how they met, you knew that?”

Jake chuckled, “That’s what I’ve heard, yes.”

“He can fix  _ anything _ ,” Wells went on, and Bellamy could only blush at his compliments. They were in front of Clarke’s  _ father _ , for crying out loud, “Also,” he hiccuped, “Bellamy you’re  _ the _ man. Really, man. I love you like a brother, man. Propose now or I’ll do it on your behalf!”

“Alright,” Jake laughed, and took the boy’s wine glass and replaced it with water, “Let’s change it up a little, Wells.”

Had Wells just… told him to propose to Clarke? In front of her  _ father _ ? Bellamy felt like passing out. Thelonious shook his head, amused, at what Bellamy guessed was odd behaviour for his son. From what Clarke had told him, Wells didn’t particularly enjoy partying or drinking, so he guessed he was just nervous because his girlfriend was there. Which, speaking of, what was his fake one up to? He had checked on her not even five minutes ago, but oh well. 

He looked around the open space, and caught Clarke’s eye in the distance. She gave him a small smile before going back into conversation with Sasha and her mom. Her eyes were mesmerising, of a beautiful bright blue, stare deep as the ocean. He wasn’t brave enough to enter their depths, because he knew all else would blur and he’d fall so deep he’d choose to stay there, no matter what. And he couldn’t do that. His palms started sweating.

Soon after that, Jake announced that dinner was ready, and so he finally reunited with Clarke before sitting down at the table. They stood back in the living room for a little while, away from everyone.

“I hope they didn’t give you a hard time,” she whispered in an apologetic voice, “Thelonious can be a bit intense.”

He wrapped an arm loosely around her waist, but not too low, thinking that if they were going to pretend to be together, at least they should make an effort to appear affectionate with each other. And god, was he going to take advantage of it. 

He planted a small kiss on her forehead, “I’m having a good time,” he assured her, “Not as good as Wells, though. He told me I should propose to you. In front of your  _ dad _ .”

“Oh, jeez,” she shook her head, an obvious blush on her cheeks, and she chuckled, “Please just… don’t listen to him. He’s so nervous about Sasha being here. Aren’t they cute?”

He chuckled, “I guess so, Princess.”

Clarke pushed him playfully, “Don’t be jealous. We are cute, too.”

His heart jumped, and he could only hope it wasn’t showing on the color of his cheeks, “And whose fault is that, huh?”

“Shut up,” she smacked him playfully on his chest, and he wondered if she’d felt his heart beating fast, “Let’s go have dinner.”

Dinner went well, Bellamy thought. Food was mouth-watering, and the company was better than he had expected. Clarke’s parents were nice and polite, and he realised he had once again misjudged how her family would be like. He knew Abby was a doctor, but he didn’t know Jake was an engineer, and for some reason he hadn’t expected that. Hearing him talk about his work was strangely interesting, and he thought they had many things in common. It was easy to fall into conversation with him, and Jake even joked around, which made Bellamy feel even more comfortable. Clarke barely spoke, and instead sat back to observe the exchange in an amused silence. 

He already knew Wells, and he’d thought he was okay enough, but damn. He was  _ hilarious _ when he was drunk (and when he wasn’t telling him to marry Clarke in front of her family). And okay, he wasn’t completely smashed, but he certainly wasn’t sober, either, and it only lightened the mood even more. Thelonious was an intimidating man, but just like Jake, he was easy to talk to. Sasha was shy, and very much like Clarke she didn’t say a lot, but he could tell she was feeling in her element as well. 

Something that surprised him was that none of the adults asked them any relationship questions, neither to them nor to Sasha and Wells. He was thankful for that, really, because even though he didn’t like lying (and certainly not to parents), he wasn’t sure he could hold himself together while talking about her like  _ that _ . It would feel too real, too painful. 

His heart was a fucking mess. They were good friends before, but all of this was different. Meeting her parents, being in her home, seeing her bedroom and her baby pictures was doing something to him. And he didn’t know what it was, nor why it was happening, but it felt like falling. He was falling inside a black hole he knew he would never get out from. And yet he was letting himself dive down towards the very depths. 

Bellamy liked Clarke. That much was obvious to him. But liking her was one thing, and  _ liking _ her,  _ caring _ for her was another. He mentally shook his head. He didn’t need to be thinking about this. 

Dinner ended later than expected, and Bellamy offered to help Jake clean up. 

“Don’t you dare move a muscle,” he warned him, jokingly. 

But Bellamy didn’t listen, and instead picked up some empty bowls and dirty plates and took them to the kitchen. When Jake spotted him, he chuckled, “Stubborn just like Clarke, huh? How do the two of you even get along?”

Bellamy smirked, “It’s a miracle, really.”

_ If only you knew.  _

“I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for taking care of her that day,” the man said, voice more serious now, “That must have been scary for you, too.”

And it had been, but probably not for the reasons he was expecting. He hadn’t been a concerned boyfriend, not quite a concerned friend at the time, either. But he had been concerned, alright. And he had freaked out more than he would’ve liked to admit. 

“It was nothing,” he said, weirdly calm under his intense, fatherly gaze, “It was just exhaustion, and she recovered quickly.”

“Still,” Jake gave him a soft smile, “I like you, Bellamy. You’re a good man. I can tell your family has raised you right.”

He was pretty sure he was blushing now. He could only hope his tanned skin would hide it from view, “I try to be. My Mom didn’t have it easy,” he said, completely without thinking, and he instantly freaked out. He should have totally  _ not _ gotten this comfortable with Clarke’s dad, who he had met just that same morning, for crying out loud. Alarms went off inside his head.  _ Fuck _ . 

“Well, you’re doing great so far,” Jake patted his shoulder in a paternal way that was so foreign yet so comforting for him, “You have a sister, am I right?”

He nodded, “Octavia, yeah. She’s around Clarke’s age,” which implied that he was  _ not _ around her age, and he freaked out again. What if Jake thought he was too old for his daughter, that it was too inappropriate?

But once again, the man seemed pretty laid-back about it, “That must have been tough for your Mom, then,” he gave him a sympathetic smile, “Raising two children on her own.”

“I was old enough to help with Octavia,” he gulped, “My Mom… she worked a lot, so I guess I essentially raised her in some ways. Not that I’m complaining,” he half-chuckled, just to lighten the mood, “I love my sister more than anything.”

Jake was looking at him in a weird way, but it wasn’t bad. It was a mixture between pity and admiration, something that definitely set off his alarms again, “Octavia is lucky to have you as a brother,” he paused, “And Clarke is lucky to have you as a boyfriend, too. And so are Abby and I.”

Bellamy’s heart jumped in his chest, and he was pretty sure it had exploded right there, “I think you got it backwards,” he gave him a small smile, “I’m definitely the lucky one.”

The Jahas and Sasha went back home some time later, and when the house fell silent he realised he’d had an amazing day. Octavia would definitely tease him about it when she found out, remind him how he had misjudged Clarke’s entire life and all. Whatever. He deserved it. 

Clarke told her parents they were tired, and that they were heading to bed. It was a little awkward, at least in his mind, because she was implying that they were going to sleep  _ together _ . Which they were, but doing it under her parents’ roof felt somewhat wrong. They said their goodnights, Bellamy promised to help them clean up the following day (Jake objected once again), and they climbed up the stairs and into Clarke’s room. 

“That went well,” he said. Although he couldn’t wait to take his shirt off. It definitely wasn’t the most comfortable garment in his wardrobe. 

“I told you they’d like you”, she smirked, pulling at the hairband on her bun. Her golden curls fell all over her shoulders like a cascade, “What was my dad talking to you about in the kitchen earlier? You guys took forever.”

“Just how much he liked me,” he smirked. 

Clarke rolled her eyes, amused, “I totally knew you’d get along. Nerds.”

Bellamy chuckled as he unbuttoned his shirt, “Your parents, they weren’t awkward about... _ us _ .”

Clarke shrugged, “They don’t really care about such things,” she explained, “They don’t care about who I date. Or who I fake date, for that matter,” she smiled. 

“But they didn’t even ask us how long we’ve been together, or anything,” he pointed out, “Your dad referred to me as me your boyfriend, but that was pretty much it.”

“They aren’t nosy, at least not when others are around. They’ll definitely pester me about it later,” Clarke let out a tired chuckle, “Could you unzip my dress, pretty please?”

Bellamy smirked, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Clarke chuckled again, but didn’t say anything as he brought her closer to him, one arm wrapping around her waist, his other hand pulling at the zipper slowly. A sudden wave of calmness rushed over him as her ivory skin came into view, and he saw she wasn’t wearing a bra. It didn’t make him want to push her against the bed, take her from behind like he had imagined himself doing too many times that evening. This time, he felt something completely different.

Her black dress fell off her shoulders and settled down over her hips. Bellamy leaned over slowly, almost as if he was asking for permission, until his lips touched her skin softly, like a feather. He heard a content sigh escape her lips, and he absentmindedly brought her closer to his chest. 

Large hand settled on her hips, he brushed her hair aside and started kissing her neck slowly, tasting every inch of her. Her perfume was intoxicating. As he kissed his way gently up her neck to her cheek, the scenery disappeared and he lost himself in the moment. It was just him, and her, and inexplicable feelings that were waiting to bloom into their full glory. 

Clarke then rested her hands over his, touch so cold against his warmth, and the simple gesture sent his head spinning, “Bellamy,” her voice was barely a whisper, and at first he thought he had imagined it. 

“Mm,” he murmured, lips still attached to her magnetic skin. 

Without saying a word, she turned around and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. She wasn’t rough, desperate about it, but rather deliberate and careful, as if trying not to break the spell of the room. She guided him down on the bed, so that he was hovering over her small form. 

As he cautiously held himself up over her, unaware of what her plans for him were, she moved her hair away from the right side of her neck and shut her eyes. Bellamy understood what she wanted him to do, something he had been longing to do the whole damn day. His insides craved her touch. As soon as his lips touched her neck again, they lost all rational thought. Bellamy was consumed at the thought of her, and only her, and making her feel what she made him feel.

She was all his, and  _ fuck _ . He was all hers, too. 

He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her up close against his chest. His hand gently glided through her curls, and he looked at her in a way he had never looked at a woman before. Her eyes were candles in the dark, their light a spark of passion. As he pressed their lips together, softly and briefly, goosebumps lined her skin, not the kind that one gets in the cold, but the kind one gets when nothing else matters except right here, right now.

Foreheads pressed together, the closeness between them in that moment felt like something more. It felt like pure, raw intimacy. 

“I want to make love to you.”

Clarke looked up at him, eyes both fond and anxious, and she nodded slowly. She helped him take off his shirt, muscles tensed under her delicate touch, and Bellamy almost felt self-conscious when he felt her eyes on him. No one had ever looked at him like that, no one had ever taken their time with his body, with  _ him _ . And it felt so good. 

He stepped out of his jeans when Clarke’s expression quickly turned from relaxation to panic, “I don’t have a condom here, Bellamy.”

“ _ Shit _ ,” he looked around the room, as if what they needed would magically appear in front of them, “I don’t have any, either.”

Clarke arched an almost amused eyebrow, “I thought you always carried one of those around.”

“Ha-ha,” he smirked, “I wasn’t really planning on doing this at your parents’ house, to be honest.”

“I-It’s okay,” she stuttered, “I started taking the pill a few weeks ago, we should be fine.”

“Really?”, the sudden thought of coming inside of her without barriers between their bodies sent his mind spiralling. 

Clarke nodded, and so he wrapped his arms around her again. The rest of his world became an unimportant blur that was banished into the far recesses of his mind. The only thing that mattered was touching her, kissing her lips, her stomach, her breasts, making her feel good. 

When Bellamy pushed into her that night, skin on skin, the feeling of her made him shiver. He had never felt so connected to anyone, not on that level. Clarke moaned softly under him, between his lips, on his neck. And  _ god _ , he thought he would never like anything more than hearing her scream his name, but this was much, much better. 

“ _ Fuck _ , Princess,” he grunted, sliding easily in and out of her in a steady, slow rhythm that was almost too painful to keep up with. 

“Bellamy,” she whispered, foreheads pressed together, before she closed the distance between them once more, and captured his eager lips into hers. 

He picked up the pace then, but it was still too slow, too gentle, and it was making him debate saying certain things out loud. Things he wasn’t even sure were there, but  _ shit _ , they felt so real. 

Her legs started shaking under him, and her grip around his neck tightened, “Bellamy,” she managed to let out. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Come for me, my Princess,” he cooed, hips rolling into her deeper now. He was so fucking close. And he was going to come all over inside of her, was going to fill her with his cum.  _ Holy fucking shit _ . 

Clarke came undone a few seconds later, moaning perhaps a little louder than they were allowed to, but his mind quickly blurred again, and he went still inside of her. 

“C-Clarke,” he groaned, face buried in the crook of her neck, as he released his seed inside of her. She gasped at the sensation, clinging tighter to his arms. Sex had never felt so fucking heavenly. 

“Are you okay?”, he quickly asked her once he came back to his senses. He was so out of breath. 

Clarke didn’t say anything, and instead kissed him again, deeply and slowly, and for a second he thought she wanted to go at it again, “That was incredible, Bell.”

He smiled, and pressed his sweaty forehead to hers, “You are incredible, Clarke.”

He gazed into her eyes, and all he saw was an angel. She was an angel, and he was the devil of the story. She made him question every promise he ever did to himself, she made him open up when he didn’t want to let himself in. 

He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to break the moment and think about what it all meant for him. For  _ them _ . Because it would become too complicated, too definite. He would fool himself for the rest of his life if he had to. The power of feeling everything became too much, and Bellamy pulled away slowly. His body immediately went cold. 

He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t even  _ think _ . He laid back on the mattress, hoping he fell asleep and all his worries dissipated into the cold night air, and left in the morning. But when Clarke wrapped herself around his bare torso and his arm absentmindedly went around her small form to keep her close, he knew he was fucked. 

This wasn’t how he had planned things to go, this wasn’t how he was supposed to feel. 

Clarke pressed a small kiss to his chest, before drifting off to sleep. 

He pulled the thick covers over them, and shifted his head so that he could press his lips to the crown of her head as well. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but it went like that anyway. 

Clarke had him madly, truly, deeply, and stupidly wrapped around her finger and he…

Well. There was no point in denying it now. 

He was madly, truly, deeply, and stupidly in love with her. 

  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is what the kids would call ‘the calm before the storm’ 😉
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> (Feedback on Chapter 13 was absolutely AMAZING, thank you guys so much for sticking around!)

The days became weeks, and the weeks eventually became a month, and Clarke thought she had never felt so happy, so full, in her entire life. 

Bellamy and her were nowhere near the dating stage, Clarke thought. They were comfortable in their relationship, whatever that might be, and there was no need to complicate things. They weren’t together, but they might as well have been, at least according to Octavia. Apparently they were “disgusting” and “it hurt” to look at them. The younger Blake also managed to sit on the couch again, even if just once, which at least was an improvement. 

“If we weren’t broke I would’ve burned the whole thing down already,” Murphy said one day. 

“As if you haven’t had sex on that same couch before,” Miller rolled his eyes at him.

Bellamy’s eyes widened, “Please, tell me you haven’t.”

But Murphy just laughed, which was totally a bad sign. Oh well. He was in no position to judge. 

Sex became a daily activity, which neither of them were exactly complaining about. They did it at her place, at his, in his truck (which proved to be a lot less elegant than what they showed in movies, Clarke learned), and he had even fingered her at the library a few days ago. Clarke was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to set foot on that building ever again. 

Bellamy encouraged her to try different positions, too. And  _ god _ , why hadn’t she thought about being fucked from behind before? That felt  _ so damn good _ . The way he always grabbed her hips, grip so strong and possessive it blurred all her senses, was too much to handle. She was absolutely his in that moment, and she...loved it. Clarke always had it all so under control in her daily life, that it felt incredibly liberating to just let him take the lead in bed. And  _ shit _ , did he like being in control. 

They discovered Bellamy’s favourite position two days after coming back from Polis. He had been working all day around town to make up for lost time, and he was so exhausted he couldn’t move a damn muscle when he arrived back home. But Clarke was there, waiting for him in his room, and he couldn’t say no to his Princess. 

Clarke decided she wanted to be on top, and for the first time he let her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to be on top, god no. But the possessiveness streak he always felt whenever they were naked wasn’t easy to push aside, and he had never managed to hold himself back. That night, however, Clarke forced him to lie still and just enjoy. 

And he enjoyed it, alright. He let her explore, adjust herself so that she’d get all the pleasure she could, let her bounce on his cock as if it was the last thing she was ever going to do. And  _ shit _ , he had never heard her moan like that. The sounds that escaped her lips were sinful music to his ear, and he couldn’t get enough. He’d pound into her, just so that she’d scream his name some more. Her tits bounced with her, and Bellamy lost his goddamned mind.

But the best part was, without a doubt, the rawness of it all. Ever since Clarke started taking the pill, and after checking they were clean, they had never used a condom again. And  _ fuck _ . He didn’t think he’d be able to use one ever again, now that he knew what it was like to spill everything inside of her, to claim her as his in such a primal way.

However, it wasn’t all about sex, and that was the scary part for Clarke. Because she knew he was always just one text away, willing to spend time with her and cheer her up when she was down. He was willing to help her with Ancient History, to give her constructive feedback on her artwork. He was willing to read to her when she was tired, to just cuddle with her when she wasn’t in the mood. 

And that was dangerous. 

“Okay, just a second, don’t look yet,” Bellamy’s tongue was out in concentration, and it was quite difficult not to peek through her fingers when he looked so damn adorable. 

The sound of the pencil on the piece of paper went on for a couple more minutes, before Bellamy let out a satisfied sigh, “It’s done now. But before you see it, I just want to tell you not to be discouraged. I’m literally the best artist you’ll ever come across, so don’t bother comparing your work to mine.”

Clarke laughed, and smacked him in the arm just for good measure, “You’re so fucking dumb.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he smiled widely, “Whatever. You aren’t ready for this, though.”

Bellamy finally revealed the drawing he had been working on for the past ten minutes, and when Clarke’s eyes adjusted to the reality in front of her, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, Bell!”, she wiped a few tears from her eyes, “Tell me that’s not me!”

He made a disappointed face, but she knew he was struggling not to laugh, “That’s you, Princess. In your full glory.”

Clarke shook her head and took the drawing from his hands so she could admire it properly. She could see herself if she squinted, alright. It wasn’t a realistic drawing at all, given that her face wasn’t hers. He had gotten her hair right, but that was just about it. But  _ he _ had done it, and that had another kind of special value to her. 

“I love it, Bell, can I keep it?”

Bellamy laughed and kissed the top of her head, “If I don’t see it hanging on the wall next time I come over, I’m going to be offended,” he joked. 

“I’m buying a frame right now,” Clarke smirked, “Wanna come?”

“Can’t,” he walked towards his wardrobe and took out a clean t-shirt, “I have a few things to repair this afternoon. Sorry, Princess.”

Clarke groaned. She should’ve probably taken that time to study for her finals and spend her free afternoon being productive, but she had revised her notes so many times already she felt her brain was oversaturated. Raven and Wells were most likely working, and Niylah would be...well, who even knew where Niylah was these days? She was so random it wouldn’t even surprise her if she told her she was in Puerto Rico right now, or something. 

But she couldn’t be selfish. Her only distraction needed to work, and she knew how important it was for him. She had no option but to go home. Unless…

“Can I come with you?”

Bellamy stared at her in silence, as if he hadn’t understood a word, “To...work?”

“I mean,” she suddenly felt nervous. Perhaps she shouldn’t have invited herself like that, “I’m just a bit bored and tired. And I...I want to be with you, I guess.”

He arched an amused eyebrow, “You _guess_?”

She was pretty sure her cheeks were red, “Okay, I  _ want _ to be with you. Happy?”

“Very,” he smirked.

“I don’t want to bother you, though. I can just stay in the car, or whatever.”

“I’m not leaving you in the car, Clarke,” he rolled his eyes, “Sure. You can come with me. But I’m not making any promises that it’ll be fun.”

She gave him a shy smile, “Being with you is fun.”

He half-chuckled as he put on his clean t-shirt. Clarke totally wasn’t staring at his bare torso, “Sappy,” he muttered. 

“Oh, please,” she teased, “Like you’re one to talk.”

He didn’t say anything, and instead went back to her side and pulled her into a crushing hug. Clarke didn’t know where this touchy streak had come from. She knew Bellamy was touchy in other ways, but he had never been like this - gentle, soft, discrete. He touched her absentmindedly, a hand behind her back or fingers brushing together as they walked, almost as if to check that she was still there. Wherever it had come from, she wasn’t complaining. Being held by him couldn’t be compared to anything else. 

It turned out that Bellamy had  _ a lot _ of work that day. Which was good for him, of course, but Clarke felt exhausted just by looking at him - she couldn’t even fathom what it was like to actually do it. She walked into every household with him, with the excuse of being his apprentice or whatever Bellamy had come up with, and she just watched him work. He had a handful of regular clients around town, some being old ladies who thought their toaster was broken when in fact they just hadn’t plugged it in. They all insisted on paying him, but he always refused. 

One of his last clients of the day was a guy named Pike, who she then learned was Octavia’s boss. The man happened to really like Bellamy, and tipped him well every time. His kids, she noticed, also happened to be mesmerised by his presence. 

“Where did you learn to do all of that stuff?”, a little girl in a firefighter costume asked, sitting on the floor next to him as he took a look at a malfunctioning oven. Her mouth was hanging open as she watched him work. 

“Kind of learned myself,” Bellamy said, smiling easily at the kid.

“Wow,” another little girl, definitely younger than the first one and costume-less, exclaimed. She then attempted to reach into his toolbox, drawn in by the shiny appliances.

“Careful,” Bellamy gently put her hand away, “You might hurt yourself.”

The girl looked disappointed, and frowned, “But you can hurt yourself, too.”

“That is true,” Bellamy explained, “But I’m old enough to use these things, and I know how they work.”

The smallest girl looked carefully at him, “How old are you?”

Clarke gulped, and realised in that moment that she, in fact, didn’t know how old Bellamy was. She had absolutely zero idea, and for a second she felt embarrassed. They had reached such a level of intimacy one would think they knew everything about each other - but no, she didn’t even know something as basic as his age. She knew he was older by a few years, but that was all. 

“I am twenty eight,” he smiled.

Damn. She hadn’t expected him to be _that_ much older, for some reason. But she couldn’t say she didn’t like it, either. Something about the strange realisation that Bellamy was a  _ man _ , not a boy, did something to her. 

The little girl widened her eyes in surprise, “You’re old!”

“Like our Daddy!”, her sister exclaimed. 

Bellamy laughed, “Exactly like your Daddy, yes.”

The oldest of Pike’s daughters, who couldn’t be older than five or six, Clarke thought, sat still, eyes following Bellamy’s every move.

“Are you a Daddy, too?”

Her sister then looked at Clarke for some reason, scanning her, and she gave her a small smile in return. The girl blushed and turned her head quickly, but Clarke was sure no one was blushing harder than she was in that room. Why the hell had such an innocent question made her stomach jump? A question that wasn’t even aimed at her? She of course knew Bellamy wasn’t a Daddy - a  _ Dad _ ,  _ shit _ . A Dad. Not a Daddy.

_ Focus, Clarke, focus.  _

He certainly would’ve told her something as important as  _ that _ . But would he want to be? Would Bellamy like to… be a father? The mere thought of it sent a chill down her spine. There was no question he was good with kids, but wanting some of your own was totally different. And why the fuck was she feeling so disappointed by the possibility of Bellamy not wanting kids, anyways? It wasn’t as if they were together, it wasn’t as if they were at that stage in their (nonexistent)  relationship. And she didn’t even know if she wanted kids herself, so what was all of this?

_ Get a fucking grip. _

Bellamy cleared his voice, visibly taken aback too by the child’s curiosity, “I’m not a Daddy, no.”

Clarke thought he definitely was a  _ Daddy _ , but whatever. Why was she feeling so damn horny all of a sudden, too? She wanted to scream. 

“Oh, no! Why not?”, the oldest girl frowned. 

A new voice entered the kitchen, startling Clarke, “Because he’d have to put up with little monsters like yourselves,” Pike picked up both girls easily and gave them a kiss each, “I hope they weren't too much trouble.”

“Not all all,” Bellamy took his head out of the oven, “It should work now.”

He closed it, and turned it on. Sure enough, the light turned on and, after a while, it got warm, “All set,” Bellamy smiled once he had properly checked. 

“You’re a champ, Bellamy,” Pike’s smile was wide as he checked his work. After placing his daughters safely on the floor again, he took his wallet from his back pocket and handed him the money (and quite the generous tip, Clarke noticed), “Please, give me a call if you ever consider babysitting,” he half-chuckled, “It seems like being good with kids runs in the Blake family.”

Bellamy smiled, “Octavia’s always been a magnet to them.”

Pike clapped his shoulder amicably, “You don't do too bad yourself, either.”

When they left his house, it was almost completely dark outside. Heavy clouds dominated the sky, and it was probably bound to rain shortly. 

Clarke couldn’t help herself as they made their way to his car, “So you’re not a Daddy, huh?”

She swore she saw Bellamy blush, which definitely was a rare sight. But his shyness was quickly replaced by his characteristic smugness, “Why, do you want to make me a Daddy, Clarke?”, he smirked.

Her head started spinning. She couldn’t answer that without fainting. Whatever, he had won at her mischievous and pointless game. As they climbed into his car, Bellamy’s phone buzzed, and he cursed, “Please, don’t be another client. I’m so fucking tired.”

Clarke gave him a sympathetic smile, and watched his expression turning from annoyed to soft as his eyes scanned the message, “Is it more work?”

Bellamy smiled, “Kind of,” he started the engine, and looked at her in a mischievous way that reminded her way too much of Octavia, “Let’s go meet someone.”

“Meet?”, Clarke frowned, “Who?”

He hummed, “You’ll see.”

Clarke was anxious the whole ride there. Who the hell did he want to introduce her to? She was pretty sure she knew all his friends by now, and he never talked about anyone else for that matter. Bellamy was quite private about his life, even if they were close. 

The last lights of the day were shining in the sky as they reached an unfamiliar part of town. The houses there were tiny but quite elegant, Clarke thought, although it wasn’t one of the fancy neighbourhoods in Arkadia. It took her by surprise when Bellamy pulled up into one of the driveways, and she was still clueless as she hopped off the car. 

Bellamy rang the doorbell, and waited eagerly next to her, as if he was about to give her the best surprise of her life. Her heart pounded in her chest. The door opened shortly and a woman, no older than forty-something, stood tall in front of them. She had fair skin and straight black hair that looked like fine silk, and her face looked vaguely familiar. 

“Bell!”, she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. She stood there awkwardly, unsure of what was happening or what to do, “Thank you for coming so late. I know you’ve had a long day, honey.”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” he shook his head. 

_ Shit _ . This was his  _ mom _ ? Jesus, she looked  _ amazing _ . And young. So young, knowing that Bellamy was twenty eight. 

“Mom, this is Clarke,” his voice startled her, and she could only smile at the woman and hope it didn’t look too awkward.

“Clarke, dear, it’s so nice to meet you,” she pulled her into an unexpected hug, and it took a moment to hug her back, but she did. An immediate sense of maternity rushed over her. 

“Likewise, Mrs. Blake,” she managed to let out. Why was she so nervous about meeting Bellamy’s mom? Her hands were sweating. 

She smiled softly, “Call me Aurora, please. Come on in”, she said, and made room so they could go inside the house. 

Clarke melted immediately. The walls were covered in baby pictures of Bellamy and Octavia, and she couldn’t peel her eyes off them. Bellamy was the cutest and chubbiest baby, and she just couldn’t believe the man in front of her was  _ him _ . He looked so different. 

“You’ve changed so much,” she said, almost absentmindedly, as she smiled at another picture of a young Bellamy, perhaps at the age of ten or eleven, giving a very young Octavia a piggy back ride. 

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”, Bellamy arched an amused eyebrow. 

She checked his mom wasn’t listening, and half-whispered. “You were cute then, you’re hot now.”

“Damn, I thought I was cute now, too,” he teased. 

She rolled her eyes, “You’re adorable.”

Bellamy pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head, before his mother’s voice came from the kitchen, “Would you guys want to stay for dinner?”, Aurora peeked her head into the short hallway. 

“Of course,” Bellamy said immediately, and Clarke suddenly felt self-conscious. She should have dressed up a bit, should have made her hair and overall look a bit more presentable to meet  _ his mom _ . 

But it didn’t take her long to realise that those kinds of things didn’t seem to matter in the Blake household, and she was so damn grateful about it. Aurora was wearing her loungewear, and Bellamy didn’t seem to feel self-conscious about wearing his sweaty work clothes. She would’ve never gotten away with it with her family. Apparently Aurora had called Bellamy to check on the alarm system he had installed a few months ago, and while he did that, the woman pulled Clarke into the kitchen.

“I’ve heard so much about you, Clarke,” Aurora said, “Octavia won’t shut up about you.”

Clarke couldn’t help but smile, “We are really good friends.”

The woman gave her a knowing smile as she stirred something in a pot that smelled amazing, “I’m glad you’re friends with Bellamy, too. I haven’t seen him this lighthearted in a while.”

She bit her lip, unsure if she wanted to dive deeper into that. What did she mean by ‘I haven’t seen him this lighthearted in a while’?

“Well, he’s a great guy,” she opted for, which nowhere near described what she thought of him, but talking about Bellamy like that in front of his mother felt a bit awkward. She’d known the woman for ten minutes. 

“He’s a great son, too,” she smiled, and Clarke went up to her to help her set the table, “Thank you, dear.”

“All set, Mom,” Bellamy walked into the kitchen a few moments later, “Mm. Smells delicious,” he kissed the top of her head before walking up to his mom and leaning his head into the pot. 

Clarke froze. Since when did Bellamy feel so comfortable with PDA? Like, alright, a small kiss on the head wasn’t anything particularly scandalous, but since when did friends  _ kiss _ ? She started panicking inside. 

Aurora had made some saucy pasta for dinner, and Clarke found herself wanting to dive into the food repeatedly. It was truly mouthwatering. They talked easily as they ate, and she could tell Bellamy had a similar relationship with his mom to the one she had with her dad. She couldn’t help but think their families would get along quite well. 

His mother told her stories of when Bellamy was younger, which made him hide his face in embarrassment and shake his head. Clarke had never seen him look so comfortable in his vulnerability. 

“That’s not fair, Mom,” he blushed, “It only happened  _ once _ .”

Aurora laughed, “That I know of.”

Clarke chuckled, too, “Did he really walk out of the house with his underwear on?”

“Oh, he did,” the woman smirked, “He was playing Superman with Octavia and just...completely forgot to take them off.”

“Oh my god,” she burst out laughing, “Bellamy!”

“Stop,” he pouted, but she knew he was trying not to laugh too, “The things one does for his sister, only to then be made fun of by two mischievous women.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Aurora smiled softly at him as she reached for his hand, squeezing it, “You are the best older brother in the world. These two mischievous women have no doubts about that.”

“You’re a pretty neat friend, too,” Clarke teased. 

Bellamy stuck his tongue out at her, making her laugh. Being with Bellamy and his mom felt oddly familiar, in a way. The house was welcoming, and so was Aurora, and Clarke thought she wouldn’t mind getting used to this. But she wasn’t going to. There was no reason to visit his mother, no reason to spend time with Bellamy there. Murphy and Miller didn’t, so why would she? She wasn’t any different. 

They didn’t stay very long, as both of them had to go to class the following day, and Aurora made her promise she’d come back again. She did, only because she really hoped to. 

“I really like your mom,” she said, once they hit the road and headed for her apartment building.

“She likes you, too,” Bellamy smiled. He hesitated, “I’m pretty sure she thought we were dating, though.”

Clarke could feel her heartbeat on her throat, “She wouldn’t be the first one,” she half-laughed. 

Bellamy stayed silent. Was there any reason for that? Were they too obvious? Would he ever want to...

_ No _ . 

He wouldn’t. He  _ couldn’t _ . Not after what happened the last time. Not after such heartbreak, such pain. 

When they reached their destination, Clarke planted a soft kiss on his cheek, and told him she’d see him in class the next day. But his brain wasn’t functioning anymore. 

He needed to tell her. He had admitted it to himself - which was a  _ huge _ milestone. And it wasn’t like he was okay with his own feelings, but  _ shit _ . They were there, and there was nothing he could do about it. Except, perhaps...

“Clarke…”, he started, voice weak and low. 

But before she could hear him, she had already slammed the car door shut. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah 😶
> 
> Happy reading!

Bellamy didn’t sleep that night. How could he? 

His mind was flooded with scenarios that shouldn’t have been there in the first place, and he twisted and turned in his cold and empty bed until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He looked at the clock - 3 am. He groaned. 

His feet touched the cold floor of his bedroom, and he shivered. Opening up his laptop, he decided that at least he could take that time to be productive. He needed an excuse to distract himself, anyways. 

People always said that talking about one’s feelings was the way to heal, to move forward. But he thought that if he talked about them, then they would become too real, and the pain would be worse than keeping them caged up in his heart. 

So he got drunk in pages and pages of World History, and hoped his feelings would go away with the night. 

But they didn’t. Of course they didn’t.

The house was quiet when he went to grab an apple for breakfast. If only his mind would be as silent, he thought. He got ready quickly and dragged himself to his car, shivering as he walked into the freezing morning air. He made a mental note to start taking a proper jacket to class. 

Bellamy didn’t see Clarke that morning, which perhaps was for the best. His anxiety got worse when she was around, because then he would let himself pretend that it was all going to be okay, that deep down she felt the same. He would let himself pretend that he wasn’t fucked up inside, that his whole heart wasn’t a finger tap away from breaking like thin glass. 

He debated whether to text her, to just...voice his worries out loud. Would it make things easier? Would it make them better?

_ No _ . 

Panic started rising in his chest, and he raced to his car the moment the professor dismissed the class. His judgement was still clouded as he drove, not even sure where he was going or what his own intentions were. He knew something had to be done about his stupid state, but what?

Before he knew it, his car stopped. He looked up: Wonkru. 

Octavia’s gym. 

“I can do this,” he muttered to himself before leaving the safe bubble of his car.  _ I can do this _ . 

He let his feet carry him inside, and he almost felt like a ghost. He felt as if he wasn’t making any conscious decision - he simply existed. And it felt unexpectedly relieving. He spotted Octavia soon enough, training with a small group of five kids. Leaning against a nearby wall, he watched his sister carefully. 

What he would give to have her drive, her courage, her determination. He knew he did, in a way, but not when it came to this. Octavia had never had any trouble speaking up her mind, identifying her feelings and putting them in the open. She wasn’t afraid of consequences, which ultimately made her too blunt sometimes, but perhaps that was what he needed right now - to be direct with himself, and with her. 

But he was a coward.

Octavia’s eyes visibly widened when she spotted him, which, fair enough. Bellamy had only visited her at the gym maybe twice in the past year, if that. He could only hope she identified that something was wrong with him, so she would get the words out on his behalf and he wouldn’t need to do the talking.

Again, a fucking coward. 

She finished with her class ten minutes later, and hesitantly walked towards him. Bellamy gulped. This was it. He couldn’t back down now. He didn’t have an excuse.

“What’s up, big brother?”, she gave him a sweaty hug that he returned a bit too eagerly. He didn’t know how badly he still needed to hug his sister when he was feeling down. She was the breath of fresh air that gave him the confidence he sometimes lacked. If people really did have ‘other halves’, he was pretty sure his was Octavia. 

“I kind of need to talk to you about something,” hands in his pockets, he knew she could tell he was nervous. 

“Okay, give me a second,” and she disappeared down the hall and into one of the rooms. Minutes later, she came back with a hoodie on and a bag hanging over her shoulder, “Let’s go. I’m done for today.”

“Are you sure?”, he arched an eyebrow. It wouldn’t really surprise him if she had decided to leave just because he wanted to talk to her. 

“Yes,” she assured him, “Don’t worry, Bell. I’m not sneaking out. I’ve got a rent to pay.”

He smiled softly at her, and headed towards his car. Once Octavia had climbed into the passenger seat, she threw her bag in the back and turned her whole body around so that she was looking directly at him, “You look serious,” she said. 

Bellamy closed the door carefully behind him, “This is kind of serious.”

Octavia frowned, “You’re scaring me, Bellamy.”

“I’m quite scared, too.”

Her eyes widened, mouth hung open as she spoke, “Please tell me Clarke isn’t pregnant.”

“ _ What _ ? No, O”, Bellamy’s heart started pounding rapidly. 

“Jesus,” she put a hand over her chest, and let out a nervous laugh, “For a second there I thought you were going to make me an Aunt.”

“I-It’s not that,” what the fuck was he so nervous for?

“Well, then what is it? Stop scaring me,” Octavia complained. 

Bellamy let out a small sigh. Okay. This was it for real. He could do it. It was just a conversation. About his feelings. With the person he loved and trusted the most. Easy. 

“I…,” he started, but found it difficult to continue. He forgot what he was going to say, where he was going with this. Maybe he should’ve just held it all in, drowned in his own feelings. 

The next thing he felt was Octavia’s hand smacking his arm, “Tell me or I’ll leave right now,” she sounded so serious he quickly snapped back into reality. 

“Okay, I’m sorry, O. This isn’t easy for me,” he confessed. Well, that was something, right? When his sister remained silent, he spoke again, afraid she would really leave, “It’s about Clarke.”

“I knew it,” she immediately said, “What? You’ve finally realised you’re in love with her, or something? Because it was about damn time, Bellamy. You’re both painful to look at.”

_ Well, shit. _

She had done all the talking after all. 

When he didn’t say anything, and instead gave her a guilty look she knew all too well, the younger Blake squealed, “No fucking way!”

“Shh,” he put a finger on his lips to shush her, although nobody was really hearing them.

“Sorry,” she blushed, “Bellamy, this is… Wow. This is something I thought I’d never see.”

He arched an eyebrow, “What, exactly?”

“This whole thing, Bellamy!”, she exclaimed, excitedly, “Please, tell me everything.”

So, he’d have to talk after all. He braced himself and let the words roll off his tongue, “I don’t understand what’s going on in my head, O. Everything is confusing and blurred out together. I care about Clarke, but…”

“But what?”, she asked, impatiently. 

“But I don’t want to feel what I’m feeling,” he shrugged, “It’s wrong, it’ll end badly, and I don’t even think she feels the same. So.”

Octavia sat straighter on her seat, “Okay, let’s be clear about something. One, it’s not wrong to be in love, you fucking idiot. Do you even know how  _ good _ it feels?”

“It feels good for a while,” he said, no real emotion in his voice, “And then it goes to shit, and hurts for longer than it should.”

Octavia rolled her eyes at him, knowing exactly what he was referring to, “Gina didn’t deserve you. And you didn’t deserve her, either - you deserve something better, Bellamy. You deserve what you’re feeling _right_ _now_ , and the person you’re feeling all those things for,” she gave him a sympathetic smile, “You’re like an anchor, Bell. You get yourself stuck in the pain and you can’t move forward.”

Bellamy felt small on his seat. His sister had never looked so old, so much like an adult. Since when had she gotten so mature? Since when did he look like the younger sibling? He felt a gush of pride in his heart among all the confusion. 

“I thought she was like Gina for so long, you know?”, he sighed, and ran a hand through his already messy hair. Who had time to fix their appearance when their life was falling apart?, “And sometimes I still think she is.”

“Because you think it’ll have the same ending?,” Bellamy nodded. She closed the slim distance between them, holding his hand in hers and intertwining their fingers. She gave him a strong squeeze, “You have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen, Bellamy. You didn’t deserve her. But you deserve Clarke.”

“You don’t know that,” he whispered, voice raspy. He cleared his throat, “You don’t know how it’s going to end.”

“That’s the thing, Bell,” her voice had never sounded so soft, so comforting, “You don’t know, either.”

A switch flipped in Bellamy’s mind. Deep down he knew this, but it didn’t click until he heard the words from Octavia’s mouth. He wouldn’t know unless he tried, unless he gave it all.

“I’m a coward, O,” he shook his head, “She doesn’t feel the same. She doesn’t. She would’ve made a move by now.”

Octavia arched an amused eyebrow, “Right. Because you’ve made a move yourself.”

_ Shit _ , okay. He hadn’t looked at it like that. Like a rational person, perhaps. He had let his anxiety cloud his judgement, when in fact Clarke could be feeling the same way. Bellamy thought his random displays of affection had been hint enough, but… 

“Honestly,” Octavia spoke again, “I saw this coming before it even happened. I knew you’d get along, and I knew something like this was bound to happen, too,” she smiled proudly. 

“Then tell me what to do, Oracle Octavia,” he teased. 

“Easy. Stop chickening out,” she shrugged, “Look, I told Mom that you all should thank me if Clarke and you got married, and I’m actually quite keen on the idea now. So make it happen, big brother.”

It made sense. It all made sense, and he was aware of it. So why was his mind still spinning?

“How do I do it?”, he felt stupid asking her this, but he was desperate. He had never felt so lost in his life. 

Octavia shrugged, “Start by forgiving Gina. You don’t have to talk to her, just… do it in your mind,” that caught him by surprise.  _ Forgive _ her? Had she hit her head or something, while he wasn’t looking?, “Be at peace with that she did to you, and then you’ll be able to move on.”

“Forgive her,” he repeated. 

“Exactly,” she nodded, “Look, what she did to you - to  _ us _ \- was disgusting, but it’s pointless to dwell on it. You were hurt for a while, fine. Close that fucking chapter already. Don’t miss this chance with Clarke because of Gina. Seriously, Bell. I’ll be  _ very _ angry.”

Bellamy couldn’t help but chuckle at his sister’s passion, “Okay, okay. I forgive her. Whatever. So what now?”

Octavia rolled her eyes, “It’s not that easy, you ass. But okay, first step taken. I’ll take it. Now confess your feelings to Clarke.”

“Ha,” he fake-chuckled. Was she for real? Just like that? “Yeah, no.”

“I don’t think Clarke reads minds, so you’ll have to actually  _ speak _ to her,” Octavia patted his shoulder with her free hand, “Need an excuse? Fine. We are going out tonight. I’ll send a text to the group chat right now.”

“Wait,” but it was already too late. His sister was already taping furiously on her phone.  _ Fuck _ . What was he going to do? Was he really going to confess his feelings for her in a  _ club _ ? 

“Done,” she locked her phone with a satisfied grin on her face. 

Bellamy grunted, and rubbed his tired eyes with his hands, “You’re impossible, O.”

“Whatever you say, big brother,” she smirked, “You’d be lost without me.”

And yes. Yes, he would. 

* * *

Bellamy wanted to  _ die _ . 

Okay, perhaps he was being too dramatic, but  _ shit _ . How was he supposed to speak to her about his feelings when she looked so fucking breathtaking?

Clarke was dressed to kill - to kill his heart, he thought. She had decided to wear a tight black dress, similar to what she’d worn to the Griffin-Jaha reunion the past month, but this one left a lot less to the imagination. And god, did he want to rip that stupid thing off her. 

He shook his head. 

Tonight wasn’t about getting laid. Well, perhaps they’ll have time for that, too, if things went well, but it wasn’t his main focus. His focus was on not ruining their relationship. He started sweating, fingers tightening in the wheel as he drove to Grounders, one of the fancy clubs in Arkadia. He didn’t even know why he had agreed to this, anyway - it wasn’t like his idea of a successful love confession took place in a crowded place full of drunk people and loud music he didn’t even know the lyrics to. 

Octavia gave him a thumbs up from the backseat, squeezed between Lincoln and Emori, and he gulped. An overwhelming sense of panic wrapped around his heart, and he couldn’t breathe. He braced himself for the worst. He wouldn’t see Clarke again, wouldn’t get to hold her or study with her or be the reason for her smile ever again. 

No big deal. 

When they reached the parking of the club, everyone was already there. Clarke had volunteered to be a designated driver with him, and so she had picked up Monty, Harper, Jasper and Maya, a girl that apparently Jasper had been seeing for the past month or so. Why was it so easy for everyone to get into relationships? Did they just… talk about their feelings and that was it? It couldn’t be that easy. 

He mentally wished Miller hadn’t backed down last minute - he’d know what to say. Or better said, he’d know exactly what  _ not _ to say, and it would piss him off so much he’d end up doing it just to piss him off in return. But he was in some kind of romantic thing with Jackson, and he didn’t really blame him. 

Arkadia’s whole population must have decided to gather in Grounders that night, because it was  _ packed _ . Clarke immediately clinged to his side as soon as she saw him, “I’ve missed you today,” she rested her head on his arm, breathing in his cologne. 

_ Fuck _ . Why was this so damn difficult already?

“Sorry,” he managed to let out. He stiffened, “I was quite busy.”

“Mm,” she stood on her tiptoes and planted a small kiss on his cheek. He started sweating, “Aren’t you tired?”

He shook his head quickly, and thanked Jasper for leading the whole group inside. He wasn’t really in the mood for talking - and yet that was exactly what he was there for. Just great. 

His hands went to her hips without thinking the second they set foot on the crowded club, securing her close to his body as they looked for a clearing. He gulped. This could be the last time he ever got to hold her, to touch her like that, if she didn’t feel the same. And she didn’t, probably. Why would she? 

When they finally settled on a high table that was definitely too small for the whole group, he caught Octavia winking at him. Right. He needed to do this. Only that...did he, really? Would it be that bad if he just stayed silent his whole life? He could almost hear his sister yelling at him for being so fucking dumb, so perhaps he really did need to do this. 

In an act of determination, he intertwined his fingers with Clarke’s, “Let’s go dance,” he half-shouted in her ear. 

He led them far away from the group - if he was going to get rejected, at least it wouldn’t be in front of their friends. Clarke wrapped her arms around his neck, “I didn’t think you’d dance,” she smirked, and it was a miracle he could hear her through the loud music. 

“Felt like it,” he shrugged, hands resting on her hips as they moved softly, definitely not to the beat. But neither of them seemed to really care. 

Before their relationship got ruined forever, he let himself take a moment to really look at her. God, she looked like an angel. Everything about her numbed his senses, and he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost her, if she didn’t want to look at him ever again. For a second, he pretended he wasn’t going to rip his heart out and give it to her that same night. He pretended things were easier. 

But the moment broke when Clarke’s lips crashed into his, sending his head spinning. He immediately responded, and tightened the grip on her, bringing her closer. At that moment, it was just the two of them. Tongues tangled, bodies pressed against each other, he wanted nothing more than to rip that stupid dress off and fuck her against the nearest wall. But he’d never be able to do that, if everything went to shit.

He pulled away, his conscience eating him away, “Clarke, I-”

“Can you give a minute, Bell?”, she gave him an apologetic look, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

He nodded, and she untangled himself from him and left. The bathrooms were close enough, but he kept a careful eye on her just in case. 

Okay, he could use that break to think things through. How does one go about confessing his undying love to his friend with benefits? To his _best_ _friend_? Miller would probably kill him if he heard him say that, but whatever. He’d say she was his best _girl_ friend, and he’d get away with it. 

Bellamy went over his little speech over and over again in his head as he waited for her to come back.

_ Hey, Clarke. Listen. I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while. I hope you don’t hate me for it, but I… love you? Kind of. _

No, that wouldn’t work. What the fuck was that ‘kind of’ doing there? Did he love her, yes or no? No kind of shit. 

_ Okay, let’s start again. Clarke. You’re my best friend. You’re my best friend with benefits- _

No - what the fuck? Again.

_ Clarke. I lied to you. I was so fucking jealous of that Flynn guy, who, by the way, goes to one of my classes and I’ve known his real name the whole time, and by the way I think I’ve been in love with you since the moment we became friends?  _

Now, the Finn thing sounded pathetic. He wasn’t going to bring him up while trying to confess his feelings. Again. 

_ Clarke, I love you. Do you love me? Will you marry me? Octavia is kind of excited about that possibility.  _

Okay, too far. Aga-

“Bellamy?”

His senses snapped back to reality, and he immediately freaked out, thinking that Clarke had come back. And this was it. This moment would define their relationship for the rest of their lives. No pressure. 

Only that it wasn’t Clarke standing in front of him. 

“G-Gina?”

“I can’t believe it’s you again,” she smiled, and caught him off-guard as she threw herself at him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. 

The force of her hug made him stumble back, and he wrapped an arm around her just so he wouldn’t trip over his own feet.  _ What the fuck? _

“Gina, what the hell are you doing?”, he was annoyed. It was so out of place, throwing herself at him like that when he had made it pretty clear that he wanted nothing to do with her the last time they saw each other. 

“I miss you,” she pouted, and a strong smell of tequila flooded his nostrils. Right, she was drunk. That explained a lot of things. 

Bellamy tried pulling away from her, but her grip was strong on him, “Go back to your friends, Gina,” he said, as he looked around to see if any of her friends were nearby. It was useless - he barely remembered their faces. 

But she shook her head, stubbornly, “I want to be with you,” she snuggled her head in his chest, probably leaving a stain of makeup on his shirt. He was getting anxious. 

“I’m with someone,” he insisted, trying to push her away once more. But she tripped over her own feet, and she held onto him tighter. 

“Yes, with me!”, she giggled.  _ Fuck _ . He couldn’t believe this was happening. Not when-

Blue eyes pierced into his from a few feet away. He froze. He knew what the whole thing looked like. Gina was still wrapped around him, face snuggled on his chest, and he had an arm wrapped around her, even if it was just to prevent her from falling to the dirty floor. 

Clarke wasn’t moving, and the club fell silent around him. He tried to yell, gesture,  _ something _ . But he couldn’t move, either. He could almost hear her heart breaking in her chest. Because of  _ him _ . 

Face still unreadable, Clarke turned around, and left. 

_ Shit, shit. Fuck. No.  _

He pulled Gina up, debating whether to leave her there and run after Clarke. But the girl in his arms was now slowly falling asleep, and there was no way he’d leave a woman alone in such a place.  _ Fuck _ .

Bellamy wanted to cry. He wanted to punch a wall, and then cry. He had been a fucking minute away from confessing his feelings to her, from releasing this fucking burden. But now what?

The love of his life had walked out of that club, thinking that he had been fooling around with another woman while she was gone. 

And now she wouldn’t want to see him ever again. 

“Clarke!”, he yelled, making a few people turn around to look at him. 

But it was too late. 

She was gone. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few of you panicked because of the angst! All I can tell you is that I’m not an evil writer 😉 
> 
> “Happy” reading!

Bellamy’s night became a blur after that.

He managed to drag Gina across the club and to his friends’ table, where quickly explained to Octavia what had happened, her eyes full of worry and panic as she listened. She agreed to stay with Gina until they found her friends, and he immediately ran out of the club. 

But her car wasn’t there. 

She wasn’t there, and neither was his heart.

The moment her eyes locked with his, his whole soul had shattered inside his chest. He had been seconds away from confessing his love, a love that had consumed him so fucking much the past months, a love he now thought would absolutely not be mutual. How could she ever love him back after this? 

Bellamy didn’t sleep that night. Not for one second. He texted her once, then twice, then five times. He called her three times. But she didn’t respond. She didn’t want to talk to him, she wouldn’t want to see him ever again, and he felt his world blow up into a million pieces right in that moment. 

It had all been a misunderstanding. He wasn’t flirting with Gina - he wasn’t even interested in  _ talking _ to her, to start with. But he knew how the whole thing had looked, and he felt disgusting. 

Her heart was broken because of him. What would it take to put all the pieces back together? Would she ever be able to forgive him? Would she go back to Finn, now that she thought he was a piece of shit?

A sudden urge to punch a hole in the wall took over him. He could fix it afterwards, so why not? But he decided against it. It wouldn’t change anything, it wouldn’t make her pick up his calls or make her want to listen to his explanations. 

He had lost her. 

And  _ fuck _ , it hurt so fucking much. He thought he would feel numb, he thought his heart was so broken he wouldn’t feel anything but apathy. He thought his heart would be completely shut down. But instead he was hit with the realisation that  _ shit _ , he was so fucking in love with this woman he didn’t know how to go on with his life if she wasn’t in it. 

Clarke was his everything - his light in the dark, the reason why he had felt so damn happy and full for the first time in years, the love of his fucking life. She was his Princess. He didn’t care if he sounded sappy as hell - it didn’t matter anymore. It was all ruined. 

He felt raw pain in his chest, and he thought he was going to have a panic attack. It all felt too real - it all  _ was _ too real. 

He knew that to love deeply meant to risk great pain, and that’s why he had pursued superficial relationships and one night stands until he met her. And then he was lost. No longer the master, he was a puppet. No more playing hard to get and dodging phone calls. Now he stood alone in his room, a place where they had started everything, where they had shared so much, and he felt completely empty and cold, just like four walls around him. 

Heartbreak was a funny thing, he realised. We all know it's going to happen at some point in our lives, yet we're never prepared for it. We underestimate its power. It's like giving a murderer a gun, and expecting not to be killed. Why are we never ready for it? Because we're in denial. We believe it won't happen. We believe the murderer will not kill us. We believe if we give them our heart they will not crush it. Because hearts shouldn't be crushed - they should be cherished and protected. But he hadn’t done that. He was the murderer.

He hadn’t protected her heart, cherished it like she deserved, and now she was gone. 

The first lights of a new day shone through his window, but he hadn’t even noticed the whole night had gone away until a soft knock on his door startled him. 

“Come in,” he said, and for a second he felt hopeful. Hopeful that she had come back, that he’d have a chance to explain himself and win her heart back. 

“Hey, big brother,” Octavia looked tired as she walked into his room. She gave him an apologetic smile, and sat besides him on the bed, “How are you feeling?”

He swallowed, “Like shit, Octavia,” he felt like crying, “I’ve lost her.”

“Oh, Bell,” she pulled him into a tight hug, one that crushed his bones and attempted to pull his broken pieces back together. 

But he couldn’t hold himself together any longer. He couldn’t pretend to be alright, when his whole world had just fallen apart. His eyes started filling with tears. His walls, the walls that held him up, that made him strong just... collapsed. Moment by moment, they fell. Salty drops rolled down his cheeks shamelessly, drenching the fabric on Octavia’s shoulder. She held him tighter. 

He sobbed into her chest softly, hands clutching at her jacket. She held him in silence, rocking him slowly as his tears soaked her. A tiny lapse let him pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears, before he collapsed again. It was too much. It was too much to handle. He was drowning without her, thinking he had hurt her like that. 

“Bellamy, look at me,” he heard his sister say. He obliged, only because he was weak and defeated. Octavia carefully brushed his tears away with her fingers, “You did nothing wrong, okay? It’s just a misunderstanding.”

He shook his head at her words, tears threatening to fall again, “It doesn’t matter. She thinks I was fooling around with Gina behind her back. It’s over, O,” he let out a shaky breath, “I didn’t deserve her, anyways.”

“Don’t say that ever again,” her features hardened, “Bellamy, you’re my brother and I love you. Look at me. You are the best person I’ve ever known, and you deserve the world. Don’t even forget that, okay?”

“I broke her heart,” he struggled not to fall apart again, “How can I possibly deserve the world after that?”

The younger Blake looked softly at her brother, tears threatening to spill from her own eyes. She had never seen him like this, so completely and utterly destroyed, and it was tearing her soul apart. He hadn’t felt like this with Gina - with her, he had felt rage, and pain, and confusion. But her brother had never cried for a woman before. She was pretty sure she had seen him cry just once in her life. 

“Bell,” she whispered, “It’s not too late, I promise. Go talk to her. I assure you she’ll want to listen.”

“She didn’t text me back,” he said. He felt calmer now, after crying on Octavia’s shoulder, but his heart still felt heavy. 

“Go to her apartment,” she pulled him up with her, and immediately went to his wardrobe and tossed him a pair of clean jeans and a sweater, “Come on, Bell! Go! Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

He held the outfit in his arms, perplexed as he still tried to process what his sister was saying, “ _ Now _ ?”

“Yes,  _ now _ !”, she insisted, and crossed her arms over her chest, “Please, Bellamy. You’ll thank me later.”

He didn’t know where his strength came from, but he managed to get dressed, freshen up a bit, and make his way towards his car with Octavia. His roommates were nowhere to be found, which he thought was probably for the best. He didn’t feel like talking, didn’t feel like pretending he wasn’t completely destroyed. 

“Do you want me to drive you?”, Octavia asked him.

“Don’t worry,” he shook his head, “I’d rather do this alone.”

“Okay,” her arms wrapped carefully around his warm body, and she stood on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, “It’ll be fine, Bell. You guys are meant to be together, I’m sure of that.”

He wanted to laugh. Meant for each other. It sounded way too good to be true. 

The road to her apartment seemed endless. Buildings passed by around him, but his destination didn’t seem to get any closer. He tried to calm himself down as he drove. What would he do when she stood in front of him? Would she even want to open the door for him? 

He didn’t want to cry. It was weak, and it would look like an excuse. But he had done absolutely nothing wrong, even if it had looked like it. He had an explanation for all of it, and she had to listen. She  _ had _ to.

The sky was grey as he parked in front of her building, a sudden feeling of dejavú flooding in. He remembered the first time he had walked into Palace, annoyed at the extravagance, annoyed at Octavia for making him work for a snobby girl. But oh, how the tables had turned. 

He crossed the elevator hesitantly, and the climb to the sixth floor had never seemed so eternal. She wouldn’t want to see him. She wouldn’t want to listen. What would he do then, when all his worst fears became a reality? 

He felt like passing out the moment he stood in front of her front door. He was one knock away from complete disaster, or from seeing heaven. He didn’t want to know which one it would be. 

But he had to. 

He was done being a damn coward. 

He rang the bell. 

Nothing. 

Then, footsteps. 

His pulse accelerated, and he panicked. He should’ve never accepted Octavia’s stupid request of going to the club. He shouldn’t have thought about confessing his damn feelings in the first place. If he hadn’t, they’d still be together. 

Then, someone opened the door. But it wasn’t Clarke. 

“J-Jake?”

“Bellamy!”, Jake Griffin shook his hand eagerly, “I didn’t know you were coming. Are you staying for lunch?”

“Lunch?”, he looked past the man, a confused look in his face. 

“Come on in,” Jake smiled, apparently oblivious to his state. 

It didn’t take him long to spot Clarke - and she looked miserable. Beautiful as always, but miserable. She was wearing a sweater he recognised as his and a pair of black leggings, and her eyes widened the moment she saw him. 

He walked towards her hesitantly. There was no way they could talk about it if her parents were there. Parents who still thought they were dating, on top of everything. 

“Hey”, he gave her an awkward smile.

Clarke’s stare was firm on him, “What are you doing here?”, each word was a stab to his chest. 

He gulped, “I came to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Bellamy! Do you like lasagna?”, Abby’s voice startled both of them. 

“He’s not staying for lunch, Mom,” Clarke said sternly, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Of course he is,” Jake raised an eyebrow at her, “Unless you’re busy, Bellamy.”

It was Saturday. Of course he wasn’t busy. And even if he were, he could always make up for lost time at work. But he would never fix things with Clarke if he waited too long. 

“I’m not busy,” he smiled weakly. He swore he saw Clarke roll her eyes at him. 

“Great! Come on, lunch will be ready shortly,” Jake informed both of them. 

He didn’t dare to look at her as they made their way to the table. He could only hope her parents didn’t sense the obvious tension between them. 

Clarke was eating the lasagna like she thought it was poisoned. Each forkful was tinier that you'd feed a baby and even then she nibbled it, pausing before taking any more. She didn’t speak much, either, which forced him to engage in conversation with Jake and Abby so they wouldn’t suspect a thing. He thought they should’ve sensed their daughter’s discomfort by now, but if they did, they didn’t say a thing. 

They asked him about his work, about university and about Octavia. He learned they had decided to visit Clarke since it was one of Abby’s rare days off at the hospital, and in that moment he tried to remember when it had been the last time his own mother had taken a day off. 

“Clarke, dear, you’re unusually quiet today,” Abby frowned, making Bellamy gulp in fear. She wouldn’t be bold enough to tell them what had happened right there, while he was at the table with them...right?

Clarke took a sip of water before responding, “I’m just not feeling well,” but he didn’t know whether that was a lie or not. 

Abby’s concerns grew with his, “What’s wrong, Clarke?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head, “I guess I haven’t had enough sleep,” she looked directly at Bellamy as she spoke. 

“You have barely eaten, champ,” Jake said, eyes on her half-eaten lasagna. 

“I’m not hungry,” she said, simply. 

Bellamy couldn’t help but think she was putting on a show so that everyone would leave her alone. And he didn’t blame her, not after the previous night, but he had to speak to her. They had to sort things out before the pain became too definite. 

Clarke barely ate two forkfuls after that, and he noticed that she drank a lot of water. Perhaps she’d had a shitty night like himself, but why hadn’t she returned his calls? Why didn’t she seem to want to talk things out?

His head was completely empty, and he could only wait until he had a moment alone with her. That is, if she didn’t decide to kick him out the moment her parents walked out of the door. 

Once lunch was done, Bellamy offered to clean up, just because he needed a distraction. It was dumb. It was so fucking dumb, because he almost had a breakdown right there the moment he put the dirty dishes on the dishwasher. 

That damn dishwasher was the reason why he had met the love of his life. 

And now it was all fucking ruined. 

“Bellamy,” a deep voice called behind him. He felt Jake’s hand on his shoulder, “We are going to head out. I have to stop by at work in a couple of hours.”

He forced himself to snap out of it, “Y-Yeah, of course.”

“Everything alright?”, he arched a questioning eyebrow at him, and Bellamy feared he already knew the answer. But he couldn’t tell him, of course not. 

“Just tired as well,” he half-laughed, “I’m a bit...distracted.” 

Jake smiled, apparently buying his excuse, “Well, take care, son.”

Bellamy wanted to cry. Quite literally. Clarke’s family had welcomed him with open arms since the very beginning, and had made him feel at home. Like he  _ belonged _ . And he had broken their daughter’s heart in return. Now Jake Griffin was referring to him as his son, and he felt like throwing up. He didn’t deserve any of it. He didn’t deserve to be so loved when he did nothing but hurt others. 

When her parents left, he truly felt lost. He stood in the middle of her living room, quiet and still, as she lingered by the front door. He could almost hear her brain working in her head, her heart pounding on her chest. 

He took a deep breath. He was no longer a coward. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. 

“I don’t want to speak to you,” she said, back still turned to him. 

He bit his bottom lip to stop it from trembling, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but it was a misunderstanding,” when she didn’t say anything, he continued, “She was passed out drunk. She threw herself at me. I didn’t do anything, Clarke.”

“You can do whatever you want,” her voice was stone cold, emotionless.

“No, Clarke,” he took a step forward, but stopped right on his tracks, “I can’t do whatever I want. I don’t  _ want _ to.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this, Bellamy.”

“We need to talk about this, Clarke,” his tone was serious now, “I can’t… I can’t lose you like this.”

After what felt like an eternity, Clarke turned around and looked right at him. If her eyes were knives, he would’ve been stabbed a million times. 

“I’m not feeling very well,” she spoke. There was an exhaustion to her voice that clinged to his heart and pulled at it, “I need you to leave. Please.”

“Clarke-”

“ _ Please _ .”

This was it. Was their relationship really going to end like this? Without another word, without a chance for an explanation?

Bellamy walked silently towards the door. He took a last look at her, breathed in the smell of her apartment, the smell of her. Now it was all going to be a memory. 

He didn’t say anything as he left. For some reason, he knew they had already said their goodbyes. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves for this one 😶
> 
> Happy reading!

Clarke broke down the second she closed the door behind him. 

As much as she tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream. Tears started falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. She plopped down on the floor, unable to keep herself on her feet. Her back hit the front door and she tried to scream, but her voice wouldn’t come out. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell.  _ Him _ . Everything was gone. 

Her whole world ended the second her eyes landed on Bellamy and Gina the previous night, holding each other. So much for not wanting to be with other people. 

She felt like throwing up. Her insides were tearing apart, her heart completely shattered and thrown away without mercy. She hadn’t slept all night, she hadn’t even closed her eyes for a second. She couldn’t. Her phone rang and buzzed next to her, displaying his name on the screen. But she eventually turned it off. 

What could he possibly say to her? She had seen it all. It had all been crystal clear. 

There was a part of her that wanted to believe him, that wanted to run after him and tell him that she’d forgive him. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t picture herself doing such a thing, going after a  _ liar _ . A stupid, fucking liar who had fooled her for how long, three months now? She thought then that perhaps he hadn’t really stopped hating her all this time. Was this just sex to him? A way to get off on the daily? Was she some kind of fucking sex toy to him? She felt sick. 

Once she managed to calm down, she decided she needed to take proper care of herself. A breakup, a fallout with a friend, wasn’t the end of the world. It wouldn’t be the end of hers, that much was clear. She helped herself up on her feet and dragged her energyless body across her apartment, and into the shower. Clarke always felt better after showers, so she could only hope this one would be the best one of her entire existence. Because she really needed it to be. 

As she let the hot water fall over her body, she pictured what she would tell Octavia. She didn’t want to make things awkward for everyone, but she just… She couldn’t be in the same room as him. Not yet. Not when her whole soul was an open wound, and he was pouring burning acid into it. 

She threw in one of her father’s old sweaters and a pair of leggings on, hoping her clothes would at least bring her some kind of comfort. She was lost. What was supposed to do now? Sit back on her couch and pretend nothing had happened? Pretend she hadn’t just lost the love of h-

_ No _ . 

She had lost no one but a fucking bastard who couldn’t keep his hands off another woman while she went to the fucking bathroom. 

She wanted to cry again. 

Her eyes scanned her cold living room, until they eventually landed on her phone. She didn’t want to check it. She didn’t want to see any more stupid texts or missed calls from him. But in that moment the screen lit up, and it pulled her in like a magnet. 

Clarke walked slowly towards the device, almost as if she was afraid it would explode right there. When she picked it up, she saw it was just an Instagram notification, a direct message. Only that…wait. Who was this person?

_ Hey, Clarke. This is Gina. I hope you remember me. Sorry to stalk you like this, but I didn’t know how else to contact you. Octavia told me what happened last night. I was completely wasted and I did some pretty stupid things. But I think the stupidest by far was to throw myself at Bellamy like that. I don’t know if you are with him, but in case you are, I just wanted to tell you that he did nothing. It was all me. He told me he was with someone (or something like that, honestly I was too drunk to remember his exact words) and I kept throwing myself at him. It was truly embarrassing, and I’m sorry. Again, he did nothing. He tried to push me away, but I was too drunk and I had lost my friends and I guess he didn’t want to leave me alone while I was in that state. Nothing happened. I’m sorry, Clarke. You guys seem good together. I hope you’re okay.  _

She gulped. 

This was something she had  _ not _ expected.

Gina had actually taken the time to write to her, to explain things to her. And her version actually matched Bellamy’s - or at least the two sentences she had allowed him to articulate. Could Bellamy...could he have asked Gina to message her?  _ No _ . He wouldn’t go that far. 

She opened Gina’s chat again, thinking that at least she could act like a decent human being to her. 

_ Hello Gina. Thank you for your message. Everything is okay. I hope you’re feeling better as well. No offence taken.  _

It was short and perhaps a bit too cold, but Clarke didn’t have the energy for anything else. Now  _ she _ felt like the worst person in the universe. If Bellamy had indeed told her the truth, and she had been the one to push him away…  _ God _ . She panicked. 

She needed to speak to him. She needed to apologise, to let him explain himself. Would he even want to see her now? What if she had ruined everything?

_ Breathe, Clarke, breathe.  _

She picked up her keys quickly, threw in some shoes, and raced towards her car. As she drove, she felt like the world was slowly disappearing in front of her. Or perhaps it was just her who was fading away, she thought. Her empty burning lungs and her heart hitting her chest so hard she thought it would break her ribs and rip apart her skin were the only thing she could focus on.

Her heart twisted and sunk with nerves as she saw Bellamy’s house in the distance. Her breaths came in sharp pants and she tried to gain control, but nothing was working. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much to be back there, begging for forgiveness, for a second chance. What if he was the one who didn’t want to talk to her now? She totally deserved it. She should’ve let him explain himself, she should’ve done…  _ something _ . She hoped it wasn’t too late. 

She breathed in and out before getting out of her car. This was Bellamy. This was her best friend. They would sort things out. They would figure out why the fuck her whole life had fallen apart the second she saw him with another woman. 

Before she changed her mind, she hopped off the car and rang the doorbell to his house. It didn’t feel natural, not anymore, to walk in unannounced.

She practically bounced on her feet as she waited for someone to open the door, and she immediately regretted not having taken a jacket with her. When had it gotten so damn cold? 

She panicked the moment she heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door, suddenly feeling nauseous. 

“Clarke,” a surprised voice in front of her said, but it didn’t belong to the Blake she was hoping to see. 

“Where’s Bellamy?”, she asked, not wasting any time. If he was there, she needed to see him  _ now _ . 

“He just left,” Octavia said, her eyes scanning every inch of her face, “He went to the gym. Come on in, I’ll text him.”

She walked in hesitantly, and followed Octavia to the living room. Lincoln was there too, but the rest of the house was empty. She decided to just stand. Lincoln was sitting on the recliner and there was no way she was going to sit on that couch. Not when the memories were already flooding in, making the broken pieces of her heart break even more. 

“I know what happened,” Octavia said, bluntly. She gave her an apologetic look.

Clarke sighed, and pulled her phone out, “Gina sent me a message earlier,” she said, and passed the phone to Octavia. 

When she finished reading, she whistled, visibly surprised, “Turns out she’s a better person than I thought.”

Clarke didn’t say anything, and put her phone back on her pocket. She felt anxious again. Bellamy had to know she was there, and he was probably on his way. She didn’t know what the hell to say to him, how to start the dreadful conversation. How to face her feelings. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Octavia said. 

“I don’t even know what I’m thinking,” she sighed, and looked at Lincoln, who just gave her a sympathetic smile. It was enough to calm her down a little, “Everything is a mess.”

“You’ll figure this one out,” Octavia sounded so sure she wanted to believe her. She could only hope the other Blake thought the same. 

She leaned against the nearest wall as she anxiously waited for him, eyes locked on her feet.  _ Come on Bellamy. Shit.  _

They couldn’t end like this. They couldn’t end what they had because of a fucking misunderstanding. He was too important to her, she…she loved him too much. She shook her head. Now it wasn’t the time to dwell on her stupid feelings, not when she didn’t even know if he’d want to see her ever again, to be friends with her again. 

Her parents came to her mind. They would certainly feel disappointed. Her father had called her the day after the reunion, and had told her how much they liked Bellamy and how much of a good man he was. It would break their hearts a little to find out they had broken up, but again, they hadn’t even been together in the first place. It would’ve been too good to be true, and apparently good things didn’t happen to Clarke Griffin. Of course they didn’t. Of course she had to fuck everything up eventually. 

She suddenly felt a buzzing in her left ear, then on the right. She frowned. Looking up at the room in front of her, she saw Octavia’s lips moving, but she didn’t hear a word. Beneath her feet the wooden floor felt soft, not as much as even a firm carpet, but not right for oak planks. 

Clarke widened her eyes in shock, panic rising to her chest, and clinging to her heart. Her perception of time distorted, everything slowed down until there was nothing. Everything became fuzzy. She felt her consciousness floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. Her heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in her ears, alongside fading voices she didn’t know who they belonged to. 

She felt her whole body being drained away, until finally all was black.

* * *

“Octavia, slow down,” he knew better than to pick up his phone while driving, but his sister had already left two missed calls and he was at a red light anyway. 

“Where are you?”, she asked in a rushed voice. 

“Like, two minutes away,” he said as the car in front of him started moving. He put in on speaker and threw his phone in the passenger seat.

“Don’t come home,” she said, which made him raise a confused eyebrow. What the fuck? Wasn’t Clarke at his house? Had she left? Had she-

“She fainted again, Bellamy.”

His throat went dry, “ _ What? _ ”

“We are taking her to the hospital right now.”

He immediately switched lanes, “I’m on my way. Text me with updates.”

“Y-Yeah,” she stuttered, and hung up. 

He tried to focus on the road. Now it wasn’t the time to have a car accident. Something was definitely wrong with her, it had to be. She had fainted twice in like, what, two months? The first one had been due to exhaustion, but this one? Could someone pass out from heartbreak, from anger? Perhaps from stress. 

His mind couldn’t stop racing, and so did his heart the moment he spotted Arkadia’s General Hospital in the distance. He couldn’t believe he was living this nightmare again. He parked in the first spot he saw, and hurried towards the main entrance. Octavia had texted him the number and floor of her room, so he went to look for it as fast as his feet could carry him. Hospitals weren’t his most favourite place in the world, but he pushed past the uneasy feeling on his stomach as he scanned the rooms of the floor Clarke was supposedly in. 

He eventually spotted Lincoln and Octavia standing in one of the cold, deserted hallways, in front of a closed door. He rushed up to them, “What happened?”, he was out of breath. He hadn’t realised how tired he was until then. 

Octavia’s voice shook as she spoke, “We don’t know yet,” she said, “But it was so scary, Bellamy. It happened so quickly. She didn’t move. Her pulse was so faint-”

“She’ll be alright,” Lincoln stepped in, taking Octavia’s hands into his. She visibly relaxed, her breathing going back to normal. 

Bellamy looked at the room in front of them, “Is she here?”

Octavia nodded, “They said only close family was allowed. But they wanted to run a few tests on her first, anyways.”

He nodded, eyes never leaving the locked door. Run a few tests? Was it really  _ that _ serious? The Doctor had known immediately what had been wrong with her the previous time, so this couldn’t be good. 

“It probably was just stress,” Lincoln spoke then, almost as if he had read his mind. He looked carefully at him, so he continued, “She came looking for you. She was pretty agitated.”

“Gina sent her a message,” Octavia blurted out. Bellamy’s heart jumped. Gina? What the hell had she texted Clarke for?, “She told her she threw herself at you, and that you did nothing wrong. She basically saved your ass.”

“And did Clarke believe it?”, he felt his throat getting dry again. 

Octavia nodded, and he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders, “I’m pretty sure she came to your place to sort things out with you,” the younger Blake paused. Then, “Did you tell her?”

Bellamy gulped, and he had to look away, “No.”

Octavia nodded, but didn’t say anything. And then it hit him. He hadn’t told her how he felt about her, how much he fucking loved her to death, and now she was in a hospital room, passed out, who knows with what illness. He felt sick just by standing there, just by thinking about all the things that could go wrong. 

But no. Nothing could go wrong. He wouldn’t let it happen. Clarke had to be alright, they had to talk about their fucking feelings for once and just...be happy. Together. He wanted to be with her in many ways, not just as friends, or classmates, or friends with benefits, or a damn fake couple. He wanted her. He wanted Clarke Griffin with all his soul, and he could only hope she wanted him too. 

Eventually, the door of the room opened slowly, revealing a woman in a medical gown. She looked at him through her thick glasses. He gulped, “I-Is she alright?”, he managed to let out, voice hoarse all of a sudden. 

“Who are you?”

He didn’t hesitate, “Bellamy Blake. Boyfriend.”

She looked at him firmly, as if she didn’t quite believe him, “Here for Clarke Griffin?”

He nodded. 

“Come in.”

He stepped inside the wide room, head spinning when his eyes found her. She had never looked so white, so pale, and her eyes were closed as she breathed softly. She had some kind of tube connected to a vein in her arm, and she looked so fragile Bellamy thought she would break under his gaze. 

He felt a sudden burst of rage inside his chest, and he absentmindedly clenched his fists. She shouldn’t be here. He should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve taken care of her,  _ fuck _ . He almost forgot the Doctor was right there in the room with him. 

“What happened to her?”, he asked, voice insecure, almost as if he didn’t really want to know. 

He heard the woman sigh behind him as she scanned some papers, “First of all, she’s alright. She’s pretty weak right now, because she was dehydrated when your friends brought her here. But she’ll live.”

He swallowed. She was going to be fine. Okay. That was good news. So why was he still feeling uneasy? 

“She fainted about two months ago, too,” he informed her, all his worries coming back, “Could that possibly be related in any way?”

The Doctor looked at him again, almost perplexed, and then gave him a small smile. He felt dumb, for some reason, “Two months, you say? I wouldn’t say it’s related, no.”

It wasn’t related? Two episodes of fainting in such close proximity weren’t related? He didn’t understand a thing. 

“Mr. Blake, am I correct?”, she asked him as she wrote something down on a piece of paper. 

“Yes,” he gulped. 

“You’re her boyfriend, you say.”

Bellamy nodded. He had never felt so confused. Was this some kind of interview?

The doctor continued, “And you have absolutely no idea why she might have fainted today. She didn’t talk to you about any previous conditions she might have had.”

“No,” he said, perhaps a bit too harshly. It was clear that the woman was enjoying this game. What kind of Doctor was she, playing questions with a concerned boyfriend during such a delicate and tense moment? Boyfriend or whatever.  _ Friend _ . 

She looked at Clarke, lying still on the bed, then back at Bellamy, “It seems like the main reason she passed out was stress. Her defenses are currently very weak and her body gave out. She was dehydrated as well. But we ran a few tests on her earlier, just to make sure,” he listened, attentively, “All tests came back negative, except one.”

Bellamy heard his heartbeat pounding on his ears. 

“It seems that Ms. Griffin is pregnant.”

And just like that, his whole universe collapsed. 

  
  
  
  
  



	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter can get a bit too triggering for some people, so I’ve decided to include a warning at the end to avoid spoilers.
> 
> Only two more chapters to go! 
> 
> Happy reading! 😊

“Pregnant,” it wasn’t even a question. The word rang in Bellamy’s ears until he couldn’t hear anything else. His sight blurred, his head started to spin. He couldn’t feel his own body anymore. 

“Sit down, here,” the Doctor quickly pulled a chair for him. He plopped down in the seat silently, his throat dry as a desert, his mind blank. It couldn’t be. 

Clarke was pregnant.  _ Pregnant _ . With his child. 

_ Oh god, oh god.  _

How could have they been so fucking irresponsible? Did any of their condoms break? Did she forget to take her pill? What would they do? Did Clarke even  _ know _ ?

“I-I’m not feeling well,” he managed to let out. His face had never been more pale, and he felt like floating. It couldn’t be real. He stuttered for a moment and his eyes took in all the light in the room unexpectedly, every part of him going on pause while his thoughts tried to catch up.

“I assume you didn’t know,” the Doctor spoke, softly, after bringing him a cup of cold water. He drank it absentmindedly in one gulp. 

“I didn’t,” he whispered. He didn’t dare to look at Clarke. His eyes would dart to her flat stomach and his rushed mind would travel to the life that was now forming inside of her, a life that was half his, “How far along is she? Is the baby alright?”

The sudden thought of losing the baby like that made him want to throw up. He didn’t know if Clarke would want to keep it, but he was sure he would absolutely support her no matter what. Yet this was different. What would Clarke do? How would she feel when she woke up and found out that she was pregnant with a baby that would no longer keep growing inside of her? 

He started hyperventilating. 

“She is about 4 weeks pregnant,” the Doctor said in a calm voice, but his anxiety wasn’t fading away. He doubted it ever would, “The baby is okay. Fainting is not dangerous to the mother or the baby unless she falls and hurts herself, which she didn’t, as your friends told me earlier”.

Mother. Clarke was going to be a  _ mother _ . And he was… he was going to be a father.  _ Fuck _ . 

Bellamy felt as if his lungs were slowly filling with water, as if there was just less space in them for the air. Inflating them felt like pushing up a lead weight on his chest, and he couldn’t breathe. His arms flailed for something to clutch to. 

“Are you alright, Mr. Blake?”

The thoughts accelerated inside his head. He tried to slow them down, to breathe again, but he couldn’t. His breaths came in gasps and he felt like he was going to black out. His heart was hammering inside his chest, and his body no longer felt his. The room started to spin uncontrollably. 

“I’m going to get your friends outside for you.”

“No!”, he immediately snapped back into reality, standing rushedly from the chair and momentarily losing balance. The Doctor was looking at him wide-eyed, “I… I don’t want them to know about Clarke yet.”

Octavia and Lincoln couldn’t know before she did, before they knew what the hell they were going to do about it. The woman seemed to understand, and helped him sit down again. 

Bellamy swallowed, “Can… can I tell her when she wakes up?”

“Of course,” she looked at him carefully, “I’ll tell your friends Ms. Griffin is alright so they can leave.”

But he couldn’t even nod. 

This wasn’t how he thought he would feel like when told he was going to be a father. Bellamy liked kids, that much was obvious to everyone who knew him. He had practically raised Octavia, so he knew how unpretty it all could get. He knew the ups and downs, the good moments and the consequences of bringing a new life into the world. But this was very different. This was _his_ child. His child _with_ _Clarke_. 

_ God, would she even want children? With me? _

His head started spiralling out of control again. He had just admitted to himself that he was in love with Clarke not even a month ago, and while those feelings hadn’t gone away at all, he had to be realistic. This changed everything. This was going to change their relationship forever. If she didn’t want to have it, perhaps she wouldn’t manage to look at him in the eye again. Perhaps it would remind her of what they almost had, of what they had decided to do. And if she decided she wanted to keep it… Well. 

He was going to be in his child’s life no matter what. He knew what it was like to grow up without a father, what it was like to raise children on your own. And he would never, ever in a million years, put Clarke or his child through that. But anxiety clumped to his chest every time he imagined a future with her - a future in which she didn’t want to be with him. 

The Doctor came back shortly, and his phone immediately flashed with a text from Octavia asking him if Clarke was okay for real. He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t let anyone know. 

_ God, her parents _ . What would her parents think? Bellamy knew his mother would most likely cry of joy. She had had him young herself, and Aurora wasn’t a judgemental person anyway. But her parents…  _ God _ . Jake would probably kill him the minute he saw him. Abby would turn cold and never speak to him again. Because a stupid, irresponsible 28-year-old had gotten their precious, 22-year-old only daughter pregnant and had ruined her promising life. He felt nauseous.

Clarke started shifting in her bed some time later. The sky was darker, and he could see some raindrops hitting the glass windows, but Bellamy had lost all track of time. The Doctor rushed over to her, and so did he. 

“Mm,” she mumbled in discomfort. She was disoriented, he could tell. He quickly held her hand between his.

“Clarke, Princess, it’s me,” he whispered softly, leaning over to brush a few strands of hair away from her sweaty face. 

She groaned again, but she still didn’t open her eyes, “I’ll give you a minute,” the Doctor said, once she checked all her vitals were normal. 

He gulped, and he couldn’t take it any longer. He looked at the curve of her stomach, barely visible under her hospital gown. He wondered then if it would ever grow. If he even wanted to see it grow. 

“Bellamy?”, her voice was weak and lost. Clarke opened her eyes just barely, the bright light of the room blinding her for a moment. 

“I’m here, Princess,” he assured her, squeezing her hand so that she could feel his touch. 

She grunted, “Where am I?”

“You’re at the hospital, Clarke,” he tried not to let his anxiety take the best of him. He could do this. She needed to know sooner than later - not like she wouldn’t notice eventually, anyway. And he had to tell her. It had to be him. 

“What?”, her voice was still weak, but there was a hint of panic to it. 

Bellamy squeezed her hand again, “You fainted again. Do you remember anything?”

“What?”, she repeated, more agitated this time, and she tried to sit up on the bed. 

His hands immediately grabbed her by the shoulders carefully, pulling her up until she was fully seated. Clarke looked around, obviously lost and disoriented, until her blue eyes locked with his, “Oh god.”

He freaked out. Could it be… could she have known that she was pregnant all along?, “What is it?”, he asked, impatiently. 

“I…,” her hands started shaking, and so did her lower lip, and Bellamy’s heart wrenched. He took both of her hands into his.

“Talk to me, Princess,” he encouraged her.

Clarke looked at him like a deer caught in headlights, “You’re not mad at me?”

“God, Clarke, no,” he breathed out, pulling her into a loose hug. His lips brushed the crown of her head, “I’m not mad, okay? Are you?”

She shook her head in his chest, “I was… I was at your house,” her voice was trembling, “I wanted to see you. Tell you that I’m…”

“Shh,” he rocked her softly, “It’s alright, Princess. We are okay. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I should’ve let you explain yourself,” she mumbled, head still buried in his t-shirt, “It was a misunderstanding, I know it now. Gina… she told me.”

“I know,” he confessed, “Octavia told me earlier.”

He felt her small fist grabbing a handful of his hair, clinging to him for dear life, “I don’t want to lose you, Bellamy.”

“Clarke…,” he didn’t want to cry. This was not the fucking moment. He needed to be strong for both of them, “I don’t want to lose you, either.”

He felt her shaking her head again, “You’re not going to, Bellamy,” her breath was picking up, and he felt the fabric on his shoulder getting wet, “I… Bellamy I…,” she hiccuped. 

Bellamy pulled away, and looked right at her eyes. They were puffy and watery, and it was tearing his soul apart. He used both of his thumbs to carefully wipe the tears away, “I have to tell you something, Clarke.”

It was now or never. He couldn’t let another minute pass by. Her worried eyes were piercing into his so intensely it made him wish things were different, easier. He would’ve beamed with the news in any other context. He would’ve loved to have beautiful, smart, cheeky children with her eventually. But now? Now he didn’t even know what his heart leaned towards. 

“Do you know why you fainted?”, he started. 

She was looking at him quizzically, “No.”

“The Doctor said it was mainly due to stress and dehydration,” he told her, and braced himself. 

“My mom is going to kill me,” she half-smiled, “I guess I’m not too good at taking care of myself, huh?”

He gulped, “Perhaps you should start to.”

He could hear his own heartbeat as she looked at him, more confused than before. This was it. This was going to change their relationship, their lives. He braced himself, and hoped their story had a happy ending. 

“You… You are pregnant, Clarke.”

Words left her. She stared into his dark, concerned eyes burning with something she couldn’t identify, and her heart fell silent. She couldn’t get her lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as he looked at her, waiting for a reaction. But her mind was blank and her eyes wide as she stared at him. His eyes desperately searched hers, waiting. She had to say something. She searched her mind for something reasonable to say, but her head was empty.

“Clarke.”

Slow, desolate tears ran from her unblinking eyes and dropped steadily into her hospital gown. She could feel the warmth, sliding down her cheeks, and rolling off her chin. Then another. And another. Until her eyes flooded with them, coming like a rainfall. They fell, and fell, and fell, and she let them. 

“Princess,” Bellamy’s arms instantly wrapped around her. She broke down in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably until she could no longer breathe, “Everything is going to be okay. I’ve got you, alright? I’m here for you, Clarke. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

But she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. She didn’t want to. She needed to feel every raw emotion, come to terms with the reality her life had turned into. She was  _ pregnant _ . 

Clarke pulled away slowly, wiping off the tears with the back of her hand. She was still shaking as she spoke, “Are you sure I’m pregnant?”

Bellamy nodded, slowly, “They did a pregnancy test on you, and the Doctor confirmed it,” she could tell he was struggling to hold himself together, “You’re around four weeks along.”

She felt a sting in her throat, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Me, neither.”

Bellamy felt a weight lift off his shoulders the moment he pronounced the words, but a new, heavier weight had replaced it, and this one wasn’t going to go away as easily. 

“What do you want to do?”, she asked, confusing him for a second. 

He blinked, “I think the decision is on you, Princess.”

“It’s not like I made this baby by myself,” she frowned. 

“I know,” he hurried to take her hand in his. He needed to feel her, desperately, “But you’re the one who’s pregnant. You’re the one who’s going to have to carry the baby, give birth. I think your decision is a bit more important than mine.”

She tried to weigh her options, but she couldn’t think straight. The most responsible thing to do would be to just… To just…

“We should get rid of it,” her voice was barely a whisper, cold and emotionless as she let the words fall from her lips. She could feel her heart breaking with every word. 

Bellamy was no longer feeling his body. He was pretty sure none of it was real, just a simulation. It didn’t  _ feel _ real. He wasn’t surprised to hear the words, really. Deep down, he knew it was the most logical thing to do. She was about to graduate, but he still had at least one more year of college. They both had jobs, but would they be enough to support a baby? Probably not. And they had only known each other for what, three months? Everything sank in, and he felt sick to his stomach. 

“Okay,” he nodded, slowly. 

She gulped, “What do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Clarke. It’s your body.”

“It’s also your baby.”

But he didn’t know what he wanted. Did he want to have children? Yes. Did he want to have children with Clarke Griffin, who he was madly in love with, who he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, in eight months? He didn’t dare to answer. 

“We should get rid of it,” he agreed, words coming out almost in a robotic way, mimicking hers. It was her body, no matter what she said. Her choice. He didn’t have a say in it, and it was okay. If she didn’t want to have the baby, then he didn’t want to, either. 

Clarke nodded, slowly, as if she had just come to terms with the words that had left his mouth. She tried to convince herself that it was the right thing to do. It would be the responsible thing to do. She tried to ignore the stabbing sensation in her stomach as the Doctor came back to check on her. 

“I see he’s told you the news,” the woman said, calmly. 

“Yes,” Clarke felt small, stupid, like an irresponsible teenager, “We… we want to get rid of it.”

The Doctor looked at them carefully for what seemed like an eternity. It was the right thing. It was. There was no way she could raise a baby at the age of 22. Bellamy was older, but it didn’t matter. They couldn’t. They had known each other for three months, for crying out loud, what if they weren’t meant to be with each other? She didn’t want her kid to grow up with divorced parents. She panicked. 

“Are you sure?”, the Doctor asked, “This is a big decision to make.”

“We are sure,” Bellamy spoke this time. Clarke couldn’t help but think that he didn’t sound so sure himself, despite his words. 

“Alright then. I’ll give you an appointment for next week,” she told them, “The sooner we do this, the better.”

_ The sooner, the better. _

As they made their way towards his car a couple of hours later, it all sank in. She was  _ pregnant _ . Pregnant. Fucking pregnant. And by the same time the following week, she wasn’t going to be anymore. 

“Can we go to my apartment?”, she asked him, voice weak, “I don’t feel like seeing anyone.”

“Of course,” he gulped. He didn’t feel like it, either. 

The drive home was dead silent, both immersed in the mess that were their heads. Bellamy felt like he was driving to a funeral, when it should have felt like the exact opposite. A baby right now would’ve been a burden in the future. Right? Right. They were making the right decision. 

Clarke fought the urge to put a hand over her stomach. She knew she wouldn’t feel a thing, but knowing that something was growing inside of her at that very moment was making her heart ache. They had created a life, together. And they were going to take it away, together. 

Bellamy forced himself not to think about it, not to let his imagination wander off. But then he made the mistake of looking down at her stomach, and  _ fuck _ . Fuck everything. He wondered then if the tiny life inside of Clarke would’ve grown up to be a boy or a girl. He wondered if they would have had her hair or his, her fair skin or his tanned one, and  _ god _ . He would die on the spot if their baby had Clarke’s eyes. Those beautiful, big blue eyes that had captured his whole soul the very second he looked at them. 

But nothing like that was going to happen. They would never have a beautiful baby boy or a beautiful little Princess. It was her decision - and it was his, too. 

Her apartment seemed emptier and colder than usual when they got there. Clarke took Bellamy’s hand, guiding him towards her bedroom in silence. They took off their shoes almost as if it was a routine, and they laid down, facing each other. Brown eyes locked with blue, and for the first time in forever, he couldn’t read her expression. 

“What’s on your mind?”, Bellamy asked, voice barely a whisper. It was a stupid question, really, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

Clarke held her breath, “The baby.”

He nodded, and reached for her hand, holding it tightly, “Your hand is cold,” she stated, “It never is.”

He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. He wasn’t strong enough to speak. His mind was numb, and so was his heart. 

“What’s on your mind?”, she asked him then. 

But he couldn’t say the words. It was all too much. His life had turned into a nightmare, and he couldn’t hold himself together any longer. Eyes closed, his chest heaved with a quiet sob, and tears welled up behind his eyelids, slipping down his cheeks without resistance. 

With one soft hand under his chin, Clarke angled his face towards her and kissed away the tears, silently. But he couldn’t stop. He reached out for her, and she immediately pulled him into a hug.

“Bellamy,” she whispered into his hair, heart breaking with each of his tears, “Cry all you need, okay?”

His throat tightened and his breath picked up. The image of what they could have shared came to his mind, and they were too powerful. His gut wrenched. This wasn’t supposed to be how it was all going to happen. 

He was going to let her know how he felt for her, how he was madly in love with her heart and soul, how he wanted to spend every second of every day for the rest of his life with her until he took his last breath. But now…

He mentally shook his head. This couldn’t change everything. It hadn’t changed his feelings. 

“Clarke,” he managed to let out, unburying his head from her chest. She immediately wiped away his tears, looking right at his puffy eyes. 

“I know, Bell,” she gave him a sympathetic look, her heart tightening in her chest, “It hurts.”

“It hurts a lot,” he sniffled. He hesitated for a moment, “Are we doing the right thing, Clarke?”

She wanted to believe she knew the answer. She wanted to believe that yes, they were doing the right thing, that they were making responsible decisions. For their futures, for themselves. But as she looked at him, she saw the rawness of his soul through his eyes, and she couldn’t bring herself to say it. 

“I don’t know,” she confessed. 

Bellamy then sat down on the bed, pulling her up with him. She arched a confused eyebrow, “Okay,” he let out a deep sigh, “Let’s imagine this for a moment, alright?”

“Alright,” she didn’t know where he was going with this, but she was numb. 

“One year from today. We have a healthy baby. You’ve graduated and you’re working at the gallery. I’m finishing my degree and continuing with work,” he gulped, “How do you feel?”

She couldn’t breathe, the images on her brain were too powerful. She let her heart speak for her once, “I’m happy.”

Bellamy’s features softened, “Well, I’m happy too.”

“What does it all mean, Bell?”, deep down she knew, but she was terrified. She needed him to say it. 

Bellamy was terrified too, that it all had come to this. But this was their lives now, and  _ fuck it _ , he was going to live it. 

“It means,” he took her hands in his, and her whole body stopped functioning in that moment, “It means that I’m in love with you, Clarke. It means that I’ve been so fucking in love with you for the past two months and I can’t even believe I’m telling you at a moment like this. I was planning on telling you before it all went to shit, but… But I’m telling you now, and I hope it’s enough.”

Her heart started beating again, faster than ever before, and each of his words were bringing her back to life, “And it means that I want to spend the rest of my days with you, if you want to spend them with me. It means… it means that this situation isn’t ideal at all, but  _ shit _ , Clarke,” his lower lip started trembling, and he forced himself to stop. The words couldn’t leave his mouth. 

Clarke closed her eyes, trying to bring herself down to Earth. She knew exactly what it all meant. And it was terrifying. 

“Say it, Bellamy.”

He gulped, “No.”

“Bellamy, please.”

“Clarke.”

“I need you to say it,” a lump formed in her throat, her voice raw with an emotion she couldn’t yet identify, “I need to hear you say it.”

“Clarke, this is not…,” he swallowed back tears, voice breaking, “This is not my decision to make.”

Her eyes were still closed, unable to focus on anything but the tranquil blackness of her mind. Her voice was calm as she spoke, a contrast to the storm that was breaking out inside of her, “I can’t say it,” she choked out, “I’m not brave enough, Bellamy. I need to hear it from you.”

Bellamy’s eyes filled with tears, and he shamelessly let them fall, “But you  _ are _ brave enough, Clarke. You are.”

She shook her head, tears spilling from her eyes again. She felt Bellamy’s large hand stroking her cheek, wiping them away, and she forced herself to look at him. His eyes were a mirrored image of hers, and she knew neither of them had ever felt so broken. And yet amongst the blurriness of her mind, of her heart, of her sight, she saw it clearly. 

“I…,” her voice was shaking, but her thoughts had never been so firm, “I… I want to have this baby, Bellamy,” his whole world stopped the moment the words left her mouth, “I want to have this baby with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, with our family,” she couldn’t hold herself together any longer, “Bellamy, I…,” she stopped, gasping for air. This was it, this was everything, “I love you, too.”

Bellamy suppressed a sob at the back of his throat, and immediately pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. With each second that passed, he felt his whole essence come back alive, until every piece of his soul was glued back together and everything started making sense again. 

“I want this, too, Clarke,” he held her tighter, afraid of letting go, “I need you, Princess. I need you so fucking much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and now…,” he placed a careful hand over her stomach, caressing it softly, and making her shiver, “This little thing is the single most important thing in my life. We made this, Clarke. We made this and I love you both so much it fucking hurts my soul.”

Clarke felt her soul healing with each of Bellamy’s words. They were going to have this baby. It all sank in, and it felt scary. But on top of everything, it felt  _ right _ . A weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and surprisingly life had never made more sense. A circle was closing around them, and everything became clear as day. 

She didn’t hesitate as she pulled him in for a kiss. Their lips moved slowly, passionately against each other, mouths speaking without words. They had never felt anything so raw, so pure, and each of their broken pieces started coming back together. Their hearts weren’t the same - they were  _ new _ . 

Bellamy put a hand over her stomach again, a stomach he’d see grow with their child. A child he already loved more than he could ever love himself. He didn’t know if they were making the biggest mistake of their lives, but it didn’t feel like it. Not at all. 

It felt as if their lives had just begun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of miscarriage and abortion.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had to describe this chapter with one word, it would be... wholesome.
> 
> But I’ll let you be the judge of that 😉
> 
> Happy reading!

Clarke woke up with the sunlight, confused at first. Her surroundings weren’t familiar, and there was a heavy weight around her waist. She moved around a bit to ease her discomfort, and then she felt it. A large hand beneath her shirt, skin on skin, placed carefully on her stomach. 

The events of the previous day came flooding in, hitting her like a tsunami. Her head started spinning. She was  _ pregnant _ . She was pregnant and nobody knew except for the man sleeping next to her. Anxiety started creeping in again. 

“Bellamy,” she shook his arm lightly, hoping it would be enough to wake him up, “Bell.”

Bellamy woke up immediately, his heart beating fast, feeling nothing but panic, “Clarke,” he breathed out, eyes wide as he scanned her, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry, Bell. I’m okay. I’m sorry I woke you up like that.”

He took a few seconds to fully adjust to the new scenario. The sun was shining outside, and he could hear Miller’s voice downstairs, the smell of coffee quickly rolling into the room. It would’ve been a normal morning, a nothing-out-of-the-ordinary morning in the Blake-Murphy-Miller household if it wasn’t for a tiny, very tiny detail. 

He had become a father not even 24 hours ago. A father to an embryo of four weeks that was the size of poppy seed, if that. But a father nonetheless. And he should’ve probably felt lost, freaked out, anxious, but his gut was telling him there was no use in feeling such things. His heart felt full, happy, calm - anyone else in his situation would probably think he was crazy. And perhaps he was, but so what?

Clarke fidgeted nervously with the thick covers of his bed, and he then wondered for the first time where the hell they were going to live now. His house didn’t have any spare rooms for a nursery, and neither did hers. Would they move in together? Would Clarke...want that?

“Bell,” her voice pulled him out of his daydreaming state. 

“Yes, Princess.”

She turned around to face him, worry visible in her usually soft features, “We need to tell them.”

_ Them _ . Her parents. His mother. Octavia. Their friends. Right. They needed to know. 

“Isn’t it too soon?”, he asked. He knew how dangerous pregnancies were during the first trimester, and Clarke was only a month along. He didn’t want to dwell on the possibility for too long or he’d start feeling sick - but there was a possibility things could go very wrong. 

But Clarke was determined, “If things go wrong, they’d deserve to know as well.”

He nodded, “Okay.”

It made sense. They wouldn’t want to keep such a secret from their families, anyway. It would hurt too much to keep it locked. 

_ No _ . 

Nothing would go wrong. He  _ felt _ it. They would have a healthy, happy little baby that would become their whole world instantly. He took her hand in his, and gave it a soft squeeze. 

“Everything is going to be alright,” he whispered. 

Clarke nodded, slowly, “Do you feel it, too?”

“Yes,” he knew exactly what she meant. He felt it. He felt things were going to be okay. And he could only hope it wasn’t wishful thinking. 

“What else do you feel?”

The question took him by surprise because, in all honesty, he felt a lot of things and nothing at the same time. 

“I know it’s too soon,” she spoke again, and Bellamy noticed her cheeks were flushed, “But what do you think they will be?”

He let himself think about it, wonder about the possibilities and hoping it wouldn’t jinx anything. He had experience somewhat raising a girl, and it hadn’t been easy. But then again, raising a son would be difficult as well - different, but still not a piece of cake. So he shut down his brain, he shut down his heart, and listened to his gut. 

Bellamy imagined the life growing inside of Clarke, what they would be like. They’d probably have his dark hair, hopefully her blue eyes, and he couldn’t help but think they would be snarky like Octavia, look up to her even. He had no doubts his sister was going to be the best Aunt in the universe. 

He listened to his gut. He wasn’t clouded by wishful thinking, because he honestly didn’t have any preferences. All he wanted was a happy and healthy baby, and he knew Clarke did, too. 

He leaned in, pressing his head softly to her stomach. Her hand immediately travelled to his hair and she started playing with it absentmindedly. Bellamy closed his eyes and listened, listened to the nothingness. And yet he heard everything. 

“I think our little pea is a girl,” he concluded, smiling sheepishly at her. 

“Yeah?”, her voice was soft as her nails dug into his scalp, massaging his head slowly. He closed his eyes, and breathed her in. 

“What do you think they will be?”, he asked. 

Clarke hesitated, “I really don’t know,” she half-chuckled, “But I trust your judgement.”

“I could be wrong, though,” he locked eyes with her. 

She started humming softly as she played with his hair. He had never felt so calm, so held together inside when their lives had just been completely shaken. And then he realised it was her who kept him sane. 

“Girl or boy, our baby is already so lucky to have you as a father,” she whispered, voice barely audible. 

His heart wrenched. He had never second guessed his ability to be a good parent until now - until it was actually going to happen. What if fathers did this great thing for their kids he knew nothing about? What if he turned out to be a complete disappointment?

He didn’t want to blame his own father, if he could even call him that. Aurora had done an incredible job raising both him and Octavia, and she should be example enough. He would be alright, he hoped. 

“You’re a great mom already, Clarke,” he said, not a single doubt in his heart. 

She half-chuckled, “I’ve done nothing mother-like yet.”

“You’re keeping our baby safe, Clarke,” he smiled softly, “I’d say that’s pretty mother-like.”

She rolled her eyes playfully at him before jumping off the bed and searching for her clothes. Bellamy watched in silence, confused as to why she seemed to be in such a rush. 

“Where are you going?”, he frowned. 

Clarke stripped down his large t-shirt she had used as pajamas and put on the sweater she had been wearing the previous day, “ _ We _ are going to Polis.”

Bellamy panicked, “ _ Now _ ?”, he choked out. 

“Yes, now,” she said, “The sooner we tell them, the better. Don’t you think?”

His jaw tensed, “Your parents are going to kill me.”

“They’re not, Bellamy,” she gave him a pointed look, “They won’t be happy, but they won’t kill neither of us.”

“I have to call my mom, too,” he immediately shot up, and started looking for his phone. He couldn’t breathe again, “And O.  _ Shit _ , I have to tell Octavia.”

“Bellamy,” he felt the strong grip of two hands on each of his arms, securing him into place, “Look at me, Bell. Don’t start freaking out, okay? We will be fine. No one is going to die today,” she half-smiled. 

“O is going to lose her shit.”

Clarke shook her head, “Let them lose their shit if they want to, Bellamy,” her tone was so serious it pulled him back down to the ground, “We are going to have this baby, aren’t we?”, he nodded slowly, “Then that’s all that matters.”

His pulse started to calm down, and he regained his senses. She was making sense. The three of them were the only thing that mattered now. And he knew that his family wouldn’t turn their backs on him, on his baby. He could only hope they weren’t too disappointed in him. 

The journey to Polis felt different that morning. Clarke knew her father didn’t work that day, and her mother wouldn’t have to head to the hospital until the late afternoon. They were going unannounced, which only made things worse in Bellamy’s head. 

It felt different because he realised then that journey was going to change the life of Clarke’s parents, too. They were going to be  _ grandparents _ . They were forever going to be family now, linked to him by their child. God, what would they even think? Everything good they thought about him was probably going to crash down the second they told them the news. And he couldn’t even blame them. For some reason, telling them felt way scarier than telling his own family. 

When their house came into view, he panicked so much he thought he would pass out. But then he glanced over at Clarke, who was hyperventilating on the passenger seat, and he forced himself to snap out of it - she needed him to be the strong one here. 

“I feel sick,” Clarke muttered, and he immediately panicked. She noticed, and was quick to add, “Not like that, though. Sorry. I’m okay. Just… emotionally.”

He nodded slowly, unable to get the words out. He felt his throat closing, which was certainly not the most convenient thing at that moment. But he needed to keep pushing, for her. 

“Let’s go,” she suddenly said, and hopped off the car as if she was in some kind of rush. 

Bellamy barely had any time to react. He went after her, jogged up to her side, and took her hand as they reached her parents’ front door. He gave her a tight squeeze as she rang the doorbell. Once they opened the door, it was it for them. There was no going back, no excuses. 

There were no sounds for a while, and then footsteps. 

Before he could process what was going on, Abby Griffin stood in front of them, eyes wide in surprise and something else he couldn’t identify. 

“Clarke?”, she blinked. 

“Hey, Mom,” Clarke swallowed. Her heart had never beaten so fast, “Is Dad home?”

“He is,” Abby looked at Bellamy, then back at her daughter, “Come in.”

Jake Griffin was sitting down on the sofa, glasses on as he read some kind of historic novel. Bellamy would’ve asked him for recommendations in any other scenario, and Jake wouldn’t have hesitated to discuss everything and anything with him, like he always did. But not then. Not when he was about to tell him that he was going to be a grandfather. 

“Sweetheart,” the man’s expression was similar to his wife’s as he looked at them, perplexed, “Bellamy. What are you doing here?”

Abby appeared on the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, and Clarke could already feel her mother’s worry. There was no way they were expecting what was about to come. There was no way they could see it coming. 

“Is everything okay, Clarke?”, Jake asked again, putting his book down.

Bellamy stood next to her, still and impatient, trying to hold himself together. 

“I need to tell you something,” she said, then. Bellamy thought he’d heard a hint of braveness in her voice. 

Clarke braced herself. She was about to drop the biggest bomb of her life on her parents, and she felt conflicted. Conflicted because she  _ wanted _ this baby, and she would’ve been completely over the moon if this had happened a few years down the line. But now? She knew her parents wouldn’t understand, and she felt bad for Bellamy. The mere thought of her parents not speaking to her again was terrifying - she didn’t want their kid to grow up without having a relationship with their grandparents. 

Her heart wrenched, and she felt a sting on her chest. She had to be brave. She couldn’t keep in it any longer. They were her  _ parents _ , her biggest supporters, the people who loved her the most. They’d have to understand. They’d have to. 

She let out a deep sigh, focused on her voice so it wouldn’t break, and hoped for the best. 

“There’s no easy way to say this, so,” a pause, a breath, “I’m pregnant.”

Silence. 

Her parents’ faces were unreadable. They didn’t move, they didn’t make a sound. Abby stood on the doorway, arms crossed. Jake was sitting down on the couch, eyes never leaving his daughter. The world stopped around Bellamy, and he felt the need to say something, but he couldn’t find his voice. 

Jake was the first one to speak, and his voice had never sounded so calm yet so terrifying, “Are you sure?”

Clarke nodded slowly. His eyes then laid on Bellamy, and he couldn’t move. This was it. He was going to kill him. 

“How far along are you?”, Jake spoke again. 

“Four weeks,” she held her hands together so they wouldn’t shake, “We found out yesterday.”

“I need a moment,” Abby suddenly said, and in a flash she was out of the room. Clarke heard a door shut down the hallway, and a lump formed on her throat. 

Her hands started shaking violently, her lower lip trembling, and she just  _ couldn’t _ cry right now. Bellamy snapped back into reality the moment he saw her state. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and she didn’t care if her dad was looking as she hid her face on Bellamy’s shoulder, and sobbed uncontrollably. 

“Hey,” Jake stood up from the couch, and walked slowly towards them. 

His features had visibly softened, and when he locked eyes with Bellamy, he understood. Bellamy unwrapped his arms from her slowly, and Jake quickly took over, pulling his daughter close to his chest. 

“Hey”, he rocked her softly, “Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay. We love you, alright? That will never change.”

But his words only made her sob harder. Her fists clinged to his shirt, afraid he would leave her. Afraid he would hate her. 

“Look at me, Clarke,” he said, pulling her face away from his chest and tilting it up.

“But...but Mom,” she whimpered. 

“Your mother is just shocked right now,” he explained calmly, “We weren’t expecting this, Clarke.”

She sniffled into her sleeve, “I’m sorry, Dad,” her eyes had never looked so broken, “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“You haven’t disappointed us, Clarke,” he looked at her, firmly, and for a second she believed him, “A baby is never a reason for disappointment.”

Bellamy stood back, watching the emotional exchange between father and daughter. Jake’s words rang in his ears and occupied the totality of his mind until a new presence walked back into the room. 

Abby Griffin looked defeated. Her eyes were puffy, her features were down, and it was clear as day that she had been crying. Bellamy prepared himself for the worst, his heart aching for Clarke. But Abby went directly to her daughter, taking her from her husband’s arms and pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Mom,” Clarke sobbed into her shoulder, shaking again. 

“Shh, sweetheart,” Abby rocked her softly, just like Jake had done, “It’s okay.”

The four of them stood in silence in the middle of the living room, Clarke’s sobs being the only sound that filled the room. His hands were burning, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her close, to calm her down. Tell her that everything was going to be okay. 

When Abby pulled away, she dried her daughter’s tears with her hands, “Have you decided what you want to do yet?”, her eyes travelled to Bellamy, but he couldn’t let the words out. 

Luckily for him, Clarke was quick to answer, “We want to keep it,” she said, and in that moment it felt more real than ever, “We were going to… we were…,” she started shaking again, “But we couldn’t, Mom. We couldn’t…”

“It’s okay, my love,” she pulled her back into her arms, “It’s okay.”

Bellamy was so engulfed in the moment he didn’t notice Jake approaching until he felt a large hand on his shoulder. He gestured to the kitchen with his head, and he silently followed him. As he closed the door behind him, Bellamy thought that was it. That was the moment Jake Griffin was going to kill him. Would he use a knife? Or was he so angry he would just do it with his bare hands? 

“I assume you are the father,” his voice had never sounded so cold. This was it. 

“I am,” he tried to sound firm, confident, but he was dying inside. He would be dying on the outside soon, too. 

Then, he did something he wasn’t expecting. He didn’t kill him, and instead asked him, “How are you feeling about it?”

“I want this baby as much as she does,” he said, truthfully. He had learnt about his child not even 24 hours ago, and he couldn’t imagine his life without them already. 

“Do you love Clarke?”

Bellamy didn’t hesitate, “With all my soul.” 

Jake Griffin had never looked so intimidating. He had welcomed him into the family with open arms, and now he felt as if he was about to kick him out. He was the bastard who had gotten his only daughter pregnant at the young age of 22, and nothing else. If he were to throw him out into the street like some kind of garbage bag, he knew he would deserve it. 

“I’m going to be honest with you, Bellamy,” he ran a hand through his tired face, looking as defeated as his wife had looked before, “This isn’t the ideal scenario I had in mind for Clarke. But if there’s something I’ve learnt about life, is that you can’t predict it.”

He swallowed. 

“I could be mad right now, raging. I could have a go at you, have a go at Clarke. But what for?”, he half-chuckled, and shook his head, “I couldn’t fool myself, because I know I’m going to fall in love with my grandchild the moment I lay my eyes on them.”

Time stopped for Bellamy, throat dry as he spoke, “You’re not mad,” it wasn’t a question. He was in disbelief. 

Jake hesitated, but he shook his head again, “I’m not mad, Bellamy,” he sighed, and it was obvious that he was emotionally exhausted. He still couldn’t believe the news himself - he could only imagine how the man in front of him was feeling. 

Bellamy thought he probably needed to say something. Anything. Jake was not looking at him, but staring numbly out of the kitchen window, a million scenarios probably running through his head. Perhaps he thought his daughter’s life was over because of him. 

Then, the unexpected happened. Before his brain could register what was going on, Jake marched towards him. For a second he panicked, unsure of what his intentions were. But then he felt a pair of arms wrapped around him, and  _ shit _ . 

Jake Griffin was  _ hugging _ him. 

He immediately hugged him back. In that moment he thought that’s how a father’s hug must have felt like. Strong, safe, affectionate. He could only hope he’d get to be half as good a father as Jake was. 

When they pulled away, Jake’s hand lingered on his shoulder, and he was looking at him with vulnerable eyes and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. 

“You’re going to be a great father, Bellamy,” he spoke calmly, “I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else to take care of my daughter, and my grandchild.”

He couldn’t cry. He was  _ not _ going to cry in front of her father. Just…no. 

But then his words sank in, and his breath picked up in a way that had never done before. It wasn’t panic, it wasn’t sadness. It was fear. 

“I-I’m scared, Jake,” he confessed, and he could feel his eyes getting wet, but he didn’t care anymore. 

His hand squeezed his shoulder, “Trust me. You have no reason to be.”

He wanted to believe him, but his mind was a fucking mess, and all the trauma he didn’t know he had held in all his life was slowly coming out of the cage he had kept it in. 

“I don’t know…,” he breathed in and out deeply in an attempt to calm himself down, “I grew up without a father. I don’t even know who he is, for fucks sake. I don’t know what fathers are supposed to do, to behave like. I…,” a single tear escaped his eye, and he quickly wiped it away, “ _ Fuck _ . Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he was looking at him in such a soft way for a second he thought he was going to cry, too, “Bellamy, no one... No one teaches you how to be a father, no one tells you what to do, it doesn’t work like that. And that’s the beautiful thing. You can be the kind of father you want, the kind of father your child needs,” he paused, “My father was in my life, but he wasn’t a great one. When we had Clarke, I didn’t let myself compare myself to him. Not for one second. You know why? Because we are different people. I’m not my father, Bellamy, and you aren’t yours.”

“You’re going to be a good father, Bellamy, because you’re a good man. You’re going to fall in love with your child the second you lay your eyes on them, just like Clarke will, and your whole life will start to make sense right in that moment.”

Bellamy looked at him, perplexed. He didn’t know what to say, except that he felt immense respect and affection for the man in front of him. 

“Thank you, Jake,” he spoke slowly, visibly calmed down, “I needed to hear that. A lot.”

“I know, son,” he smiled softly at him, squeezing his shoulder one more time, “And just for the record, Abby and I love you, too. We are here for you as well.”

Jake’s words pounded in his head like a second heartbeat. He had a family. His child would have a family, a family that would give them all the love and support in the world. 

Bellamy thought he must have done something pretty incredible in his previous life, because there was just no way he had managed to be so lucky in this one. 

* * *

They decided to tell Aurora the following day. Sunday had been filled with too many emotional ups and downs already, and Bellamy didn’t think he had any strength left to tell his mother. 

The truth was, telling Clarke’s parents hadn’t been so bad at all. They were understandably shocked, but also supportive, and the conversation he’d had with Jake was on repeat in his brain until he fell asleep that night. 

They had offered to find them a new place to live as well. Apparently one of their closest friends, Marcus Kane, was a state agent, and they guaranteed he’d have a house or apartment ready for them as soon as possible. They also offered to help financially with the baby, but they both refused. Bellamy assured them he had some money saved to pay for college, and that they would be alright if they used that. 

“I can always finish my degree some other time,” he shrugged. Their baby was their first priority after all. 

“Are you insane?”, Abby Griffin had sounded almost offended by his words, “Bellamy, that degree is a must if you want to provide for your child in the future. You are  _ not _ dropping out.”

“I agree,” Clarke gave him a pointed look. 

Deep down he didn’t want to drop out, either, but he had to be realistic. Clarke’s shifts at the museum and his job as a handyman around town wouldn’t be enough. 

“I’ll do extra shifts,” Clarke said, determined, “Or I’ll find another job that pays better. I’m about to graduate, anyways.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jake scoffed, “This is our grandchild as much as it’s your child, and we will help you out for as long as we can. Clarke, you focus on graduating and getting a job you’re passionate about. And Bellamy, for the love of God, don’t you dare drop out. Here,” in a flash, he handed his daughter a cheque, and Bellamy’s eyes almost popped out when he saw the amount. 

“Dad…,” she hesitated. 

“Dad nothing, Clarke,” he shook his head, “I know you’ll both do well professionally in the future, but now’s not the time to turn down this money.”

“You know it’s not a lot to us,” Abby spoke in a comforting voice, trying to talk her daughter into it, “We won’t be able to go on vacation next year, but that’s about it. Take it, please, Clarke. Bellamy.”

They ended up accepting, just because they had to be realistic. Bellamy could build the baby’s cot and a handful of other things for the house, but it would’ve been stupid to think babies weren’t expensive. And he wouldn’t have to drop out of the degree he enjoyed so much, the one he had worked so damn hard for to get into, and the one that would provide for their child one day. 

He felt more confident about breaking the news to his mother then. He texted her that morning, telling her that he wanted to bring Clarke over so that they could get to know each other better. Aurora sounded absolutely delighted about the idea, and he immediately felt bad. She didn’t know what was coming. No one knew. 

He texted Octavia, too, and told her she could invite Lincoln as well. He couldn’t tell her at the same time as the rest of their friends - she was going to be an  _ Aunt _ . 

“What’s all this about?”, her voice sounded suspicious through the phone. 

He gulped, “I told Clarke.”

“Bellamy!”, she squealed.

“She feels exactly the same, by the way,” he smirked, only because he had almost forgotten about that part amidst all the chaos. 

Clarke loved him. She really loved him back. She wanted to spend the rest of her days with him, and  _ fuck _ . That was a pretty fucking big deal. 

They hadn’t had the chance to expand on that conversation, to really talk about what they were to each other. Surely they had to be more than friends, but would she want to be his girlfriend? 

As much as he would’ve loved for their relationship status to be his biggest concern at that moment, it wasn’t. He cleaned up nicely that evening, hoping his good appearance would give him some more confidence. Because oh boy, he needed it. 

Bellamy had never been scared of talking things out with his mother. She had been his only support for a while, until Octavia grew old enough to comprehend certain things. Nothing had ever been a taboo subject in their household, so it was a strange sensation to have sweaty hands and an accelerated heartbeat as his mother let them in that evening. 

“I’m so happy to see you again, Clarke,” she wrapped her arms around her, and he could only watch. He had turned to stone. 

“Me too, Aurora,” she smiled, but he could tell she was freaking out as well. 

Lincoln and Octavia were already there, and his sister immediately launched herself to Clarke’s arms the moment she saw her, “I  _ knew _ it!,” she chuckled, and the blonde was quick to return the hug. 

_ Well, there’s something you absolutely don’t know _ . 

“I’m so happy you both finally figured it out,” she smiled widely when they pulled away. Then, she sent her brother a deadly glare. 

“Hey,” Bellamy put his hands up in surrender, “All in due time, right?”

She rolled her eyes at him, “You were  _ painful _ to watch.”

“Whatever,” he ruffled her hair as he walked over to Lincoln, “How are you doing, man?”

Clarke stood there quietly as Bellamy talked to Lincoln.  _ God _ , how would Octavia take the news? Would she hate her for it? And Aurora?  _ God _ , his mother. Clarke started panicking the second she imagined her disappointed face, her look of disgust as she sent her death glares for doing such a thing to her precious son. 

“Clarke, are you okay?”, a voice pulled her back to reality. Octavia was looking at her carefully.

“Y-Yeah,” she gave her a small smile, “I’m just still a bit weak from the other day.”

Octavia’s look let her know that she wasn’t all that convinced, but she let it slide. Aurora called them in shortly, announcing that dinner was ready. Clarke could only be thankful for not having any nausea, because her food was always delicious. 

They chatted amicably throughout the evening - well, Octavia did almost all the talking. It was amusing to watch how the younger Blake never seemed to shut up, while Lincoln was one of the most reserved and quiet guys Clarke had ever met. She couldn’t help but think they complemented each other perfectly. 

“Octavia, please shut up,” Bellamy joked at some point, probably the forth or fifth time she had interrupted someone. 

“You shut up,” she threw a piece of bread at him, grinning mischievously. 

“Oh, here we go,” Aurora shook her head in amusement. 

Bellamy then picked up another piece of bread and threw it at his sister, tangling it in her hair. Octavia squealed and kept throwing bread at him until the table had officially become a battlefield. 

Clarke and Lincoln looked amusedly at each other.  _ The things we have to put up with _ , Clarke thought sympathetically. But she couldn’t help but wonder if their child would also want to participate in those bread battles with their Dad and Aunt, because nothing would make her happier. Their baby was going to be a Blake - that was reason enough for happiness. 

“Okay, enough,” Aurora laughed, making them stop immediately, “You both better clean this mess before you leave.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bellamy smirked, not before throwing his sister yet another death glare. Octavia stuck his tongue out at him, and Clarke thought they had never looked so much like little children. She could get used to this. And in fact, she would. 

Bellamy placed a large hand on her thigh from under the table, and with a quick look she knew exactly what he meant. It was time. She braced herself once again, and thought it couldn’t go worse than with her parents - and that hadn’t gone wrong at all. Aurora seemed like an understanding woman. 

Octavia was the one making her anxious. 

Bellamy cleared his throat awkwardly, “Um,” everyone at the table turned their heads to look at him, expectantly. Panic rose inside his chest, “I wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it, sweetheart?”, Aurora gave him a concerned look. 

Clarke couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at anyone, in fact. Their stares were too eager, to intense, and she looked down at her lap, at her stomach. She resisted the urge to put a hand over it. 

Bellamy took a deep breath, and continued, looking right at his sister, “I kind of lied to you the other day.”

Octavia raised a questioning eyebrow, “You lied about what?”

Clarke took his hand from under the table, and squeezed it. He could do this. He was a brave man, and it wouldn’t be the end of the world anyways. 

“About Clarke,” the look on their faces grew even more confused, but no one said anything as they waited for him to continue, “When she passed out the other day. She’s not… She’s not fully… recovered, I guess?”

Octavia then put a hand over her mouth, panic evident in her face as she shook slightly. She was looking directly at her, “Clarke…,” she swore she had tears in her eyes, “Clarke… Clarke, are you  _ dying _ ?”

The girl almost choked, “No!”, she quickly said, “Octavia, jeez. I’m not dying.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” she breathed out, visibly relieved, but still agitated, “Bellamy, what the fuck! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry-”

“Why would you word it like that, you fucking dumbass?”, the younger Blake was visibly angry, “You know how scared I was! Clarke, you were barely breathing. You were pale as fuck and-”

“Clarke’s not dying!”, he raised his voice, making Octavia shut up instantly. Silence filled the room again. And then, “She’s pregnant.”

The air was knocked out from Octavia’s lungs with every word. She sat still, eyes fixed on his brother, mouth partially open. Clarke didn’t dare look up. She didn’t want to see the look on Octavia’s face, on Aurora’s. Silence took over the house, and for a second she thought it would all go to shit. 

But then a chair moved, and in a flash Octavia threw herself at her brother’s arms. 

“Bellamy,” her voice was muffled, and she could tell she was crying, “Bell… you’re going to be a dad.”

“Shh,” he rocked her back and forth awkwardly as he felt the fabric of his shirt getting wet, and he fought the urge not to cry himself. But when he looked over at his mother, who had tears running down her cheeks, he couldn’t hold himself together any longer. 

“My sweet boy,” Aurora stood up from her seat and joined her children in a tight, emotional hug.

Clarke felt a hand on her shoulder, stroking her softly, “Congratulations,” Lincoln smiled sincerely, “You’re going to be great parents.”

“I hope so,” she whispered back, as she felt her throat closing with pushed back sobs. She couldn’t break down. 

“Clarke, sweetheart,” Aurora wrapped her into a warm hug, and she let herself cry a bit on her shoulder. She rubbed her back softly, like mothers do. Like she’d have to do soon, “You’ve made me so happy today, I can’t believe it.”

“You’re happy?”, Bellamy asked, almost incredously, as his sister untangled herself from him and went to hug Clarke with her mother. 

“So happy,” Octavia then said, and kissed the top of Clarke’s head in a soothing way, “I’m going to be an Aunt!”, she exclaimed, which made everyone chuckle. 

“Aren’t you like...freaked out?”, Bellamy asked again. He couldn’t believe how his family had taken the news, almost as if he had been expecting a tragedy to happen. 

“Nonesense,” Aurora waved a hand in front of her face, the other one still stroking Clarke’s back, “Oh, Bellamy. You’re going to be the sweetest father. Aren’t you excited?”

“We are,” Bellamy said, confidently, sending Clarke a knowing look. She smiled in return. 

“How far along are you?”, Octavia asked, excitedly, “Oh my god! Do you know if it’s a girl or a boy? Can they come to my training classes? Oh god, I’m going to teach my niece or nephew how to kick ass. Lincoln, you’re going to be an Uncle!”

“Octavia,” Bellamy gave his sister a pointed look, but he was smiling, “She’s just four weeks along, so we don’t know the sex of the baby. And yes, you can teach them to kick ass, or whatever,” he smirked.

The rest of the evening was spent between laughs, a few more tears, some more bread-throwing, and a feeling that everything was going to be alright. 

Clarke allowed herself to put a comforting hand over her stomach for the first time. Their baby was already so damn lucky to have such a great family, and she couldn’t be more grateful for it. 

* * *

Having told both of their families, Clarke assumed that breaking the news to their friends would be a piece of cake. 

They sent a message to the group chat, telling everyone to meet at Bellamy’s house the following evening for some kind of surprise. She texted Wells, Raven and Niylah as well. 

They hadn’t seen each other all day. Between classes, her shift at the museum, and Bellamy’s work, they had barely said two words to each other since they woke up, and Bellamy wasn’t expecting to feel so anxious about being away from her. Away from their baby. 

He kept texting her all kinds of nonsense. An emoji, a meme, several ‘How are you feeling’. Clarke thought it was a bit excessive, but also kind of endearing, so she let it slide. Octavia also texted her that day. 

_ ‘What do you think????’ _

Attached was a picture of a baby onesie that read ‘My aunt is like my mom but cooler’. 

_ ‘Mom approved’ _

Never in a million years would’ve she thought she would feel so...lighthearted in a situation like this. Clarke couldn’t believe it, but she was actually  _ excited _ to have this baby. Excited to be with Bellamy, to have a little family with him. And perhaps it was too soon, perhaps it was stupid to feel so over the moon when their futures were uncertain, but she couldn’t care less. 

She had Bellamy, and they had their child, and they had the support of both of their families, soon of their friends. It couldn’t get much better than that, could it?

When she turned up at Bellamy’s house that evening, everyone was already there. He was making conversation with Wells and Jasper, and she caught Raven and Niylah talking to Emori and Harper. She couldn’t help but think she was about to disrupt the peace, break the genuine moment that was taking place in that living room. 

Octavia must have sensed this, because she gave her a look from the other side of the room and winked at her. She was right. Everything was going to be okay. 

_ We can do this.  _

“Hey, Clarke’s here!”, Monty exclaimed, which made everyone turn around and look at her. She immediately felt self-conscious. 

“What’s this surprise all about?”, Raven inquired, arms crossed over chest. 

“Yes!”, Harper agreed, “Is it juicy?” 

“I bet they’re getting married or something,” Miller half-chuckled, then held his beer up in Bellamy’s direction, “Did you finally grow a pair, dude?”

Bellamy flipped him off, but didn’t say anything, which caused everyone to chorus an ‘Ooooh’. Octavia played along too, just because it was too amusing not to. 

“No, but really, what is it?”, Jasper grew impatient.

“Okay, okay,” Clarke said, which made everyone shut up and listen attentively, “Bellamy and I are…,” too many pairs of eyes were looking at her, and she felt threatened, small. She chickened out. She couldn’t do it, “We are… together.”

The room erupted into a cheer party, and even though it wasn’t initially what they had wanted to tell them, what they had called them for, it indeed was something to celebrate. 

“Fucking finally!”, they heard Murphy shout. 

“That’s my girl!”, Raven exclaimed. 

Wells raised a confused eyebrow, “Wait, I thought you were together already?”

“It’s a long story,” she blushed, silently telling him that she’d explain later. Wells winked at her, and she understood.

“Congratulations, guys,” Monty smiled, “It was about damn time, though.”

“Wow,” Jasper chuckled, a hand over his chest and a grin wider than his own face. He was quite obviously stoned, or halfway there. He giggled again as he walked over to Bellamy, and put an arm over his shoulders, “For a second there I thought you guys were going to tell us Clarke was pregnant or something.”

Everyone laughed with him, but his words caught Clarke off guard. She looked wide-eyed at Bellamy, who then gave Octavia another look. The three of them stood still in a triangle of intense stares, and it was then when the rest of their friends noticed they weren’t laughing with them. 

The room fell silent. 

“Clarke,” Raven started carefully, but the only thing Clarke could hear was her own heartbeat. 

“Mm, Bellamy?”, Miller raised a confused eyebrow at him, but he couldn’t move. He hoped his silence would be enough. 

“Oh my god!”

“What the f-”

“Are you guys serious right now?”

“Wait, what day is it? It’s not April’s fools, is it?”

“Quiet!”, Octavia shouted, and everyone obliged instantly. She cleared her voice, and gave the two people in front of her an apologetic look, “Clarke. Bell.”

Everyone was looking at them again. Clarke looked over at Bellamy. Well. The cat was pretty much out of the bag anyways. 

“I am pregnant.”

For a second, nobody moved. And then, it all happened at once. 

Raven squealed and threw herself at Clarke, closely followed by Niylah and Wells. Miller went up to hug Bellamy, and so did Monty, Harper, and Emori. Jasper cried on Murphy’s shoulder, and the rest of them stood wide-eyed in the room, still processing the bomb they had just dropped. 

“Jasper, are you  _ crying _ ?”, Bellamy half-laughed. 

“ _ Fuck _ , man!”, he sniffled, “I’m gonna be an Uncle!” 

Everyone laughed, and Maya went up to comfort Jasper, who was still sobbing uncontrollably. 

“Wait, when did you find out?”, Raven asked, looking at both of them, “Also, why isn’t Octavia freaking out?”

“I already knew,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice, “What? Aunt privileges.”

“We found out last weekend,” Clarke explained, “I’m only four weeks along. We know it’s too soon, but-”

“But everything’s going to be fine,” Murphy said out of the blue, making everyone turn to look at him. Clarke swore he had a hint of a blush on his cheeks, “What? I’ve always known Bellamy’s kid was going to pester me sooner or later. That little one is a punk, I can feel it.”

“Oh my god,” Jasper jumped, not crying anymore, “Call him Jasper.”

“And if it’s a girl?”, Bellamy arched an amused eyebrow. 

“Jaspera,” he said, confidently. Murphy punched him in the arm, “Ow! Man! I was just trying to help.”

What Bellamy felt was indescribable. He knew they had made the right choice when they decided to cancel the dreaded appointment, but the past three days had only confirmed it more. 

This baby was joy, it was hope, and it was love. It was all of those things already, and  _ fuck _ . He couldn’t wait eight more months to meet them. 

  
  



	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this really is the last chapter. I don’t know what to say! Thank you so so much for your constant support and for sticking with this story 😊 Your kudos and daily feedback always inspired me and got me going! This isn’t the last you’ll see of me... 👀
> 
> Make sure you’re following me on Twitter so you won’t miss any updates! @PLISAwrites
> 
> I really hope you enjoy the ending to this story.
> 
> Happiest reading!

Water dripped down past her shoulders, through golden hair, and continued over her large stomach. She washed her body slowly, and spent extra time on the curve of her belly. She caressed the skin there softly, as if to really believe the proof that another being resided inside of her. Two heartbeats within the same body.

Eventually, the water turned cold, signaling that it was time to get out. She threw in a pair of stretchy leggings and one of Bellamy’s sweaters, the only type of clothes that seemed to fit now. 

Walking down the empty hallway, she made her way towards her favourite room of the house. The door was slightly open, and she let herself look at him, observe him, before making her presence known. 

Bellamy was kneeling down in front of a wooden cot he had built himself the previous week, now with a paintbrush in hand. He traced deliberate strokes of white paint over it, as he hummed to some song she didn’t recognise. 

Clarke took a moment to glance around the room. It was definitely the best one in the house, the cosiest, and although they had moved in just a couple of months prior, the nursery was almost finished and ready for their little one. 

They had decided to paint the walls a light grey, something neutral, but Octavia had complained that it was too boring. So, the next day she went over with a bunch of cute stickers to put on the walls. They consisted mainly of mountains, rivers, flowers, and some animals, and Bellamy and her thought it was cute enough, so why not. 

Bellamy had managed to build the cot, a small wardrobe, a changing table and some other storage units with the help of Lincoln and Miller, so the main pieces of furniture were at least out of the way. But their friends were quick to fill the nursery with (necessary) crap after that. 

Emori and Murphy bought at least a dozen of baby toys and plushies, Maya and Jasper gave them some cute pictures to hang on the walls, Monty and Harper bought  _ a lot _ of blankets and baby pajamas, and Wells, Raven and Niylah got Clarke quite the fancy and comfortable nursing chair. She was surprised all of those things actually fit into the room. 

She took one last look around, and decided to clear her throat then, making Bellamy turn around instantly. He had a bit of white paint on his left cheek, a shirt that read ‘World’s Best Farter, I Mean Father’ courtesy of Murphy, and yet he had never looked so damn good. 

“How are my babies doing?”, he smiled, putting the paintbrush down to give Clarke a kiss. 

“Your babies are hungry”, she smirked when they pulled away, “Are you done here? I’m making lunch shortly.”

“I’ll make it”, he planted one last kiss on her temple, and placed a guiding hand on the small of her back as they made their way downstairs. 

Clarke resisted the urge to scoff at him. Her pregnancy wasn't at all difficult - barely any nausea, no more fainting, and her back pain wasn’t that terrible. Yet Bellamy was. 

She knew Bellamy was protective of his sister, and he eventually became protective of her, too. But ever since she got pregnant, he became much worse. He didn’t want her to go alone anywhere, didn’t want her to lift any weights (not even a milk carton), and he didn’t want her to make lunch either, apparently. It was getting ridiculous. 

“Bell, I’m pregnant, not incapacitated,” she crossed her arms in resignation when he took a frying pan from her hands. 

“Shh,” he shushed her playfully, “Let Daddy do the work.”

Clarke arched an amused eyebrow, “So we are doing that now?”

“Doing what?”, he teased. 

“Calling ourselves Mommy and Daddy,” she smirked. 

“Let’s not pervert those words,” Bellamy half-chuckled, “I don’t want to feel weird when our kids call us that.”

Clarke’s heart raced, “Kids,” she paused, “In plural.”

“Well, yeah,” she swore she saw a blush on his cheeks as he spoke, “While we are at it.”

She laughed, and went to hug him from behind, “Well, we do have three bedrooms in this house.”

“That we do,” he smiled, his insides getting all warm with the possibility of expanding their little family. It was too soon, they both knew that, but Bellamy couldn’t picture a better future for him. An amazing girlfriend, a great home, and beautiful and intelligent children? There was nothing more he could ask for. 

Well, perhaps a dog. Would Clarke kill him if he adopted a puppy and didn’t tell her? It’d be worth the risk. 

As the months passed by, the house stopped being a house, full of boxes and unpacked goods, and it became a home. Marcus Kane had managed to find them in record time a two-story house with a tiny garden in a quiet, residential part of Arkadia that wasn’t too far away from campus. 

The nursery was completely finished, and so was their bedroom, and the living room area was slowly coming together as well. Their house felt more like a home every time their families visited, and every time their friends invited themselves for drinking nights. And yet moving in with the love of his life wasn’t even the highlight of Bellamy’s existence. 

Watching Clarke’s stomach grow with their child was mesmerising and terrifying at the same time. He’d talk to their baby every morning and every night. He’d have actual conversations with them that always got Clarke laughing, telling them how their mother craved the weirdest shit at the weirdest hours, how much they moved, and how badly he wanted to finally hold them in his arms. 

Week 18 came along, and so did the date of one of their most important ultrasounds: the one where they’d find out the sex of their baby. Neither of them really minded the results, although Bellamy was pretty convinced that they were having a girl. 

“You’re just saying that because you actually  _ want _ a girl,” Clarke teased him. 

“Pst, no,” he crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look offended. But it wasn’t working. 

“You do,” she smirked. 

“Clarke, I really don’t mind whether it’s a boy or a girl. I’ll love them the same.”

“I know that,” she rolled her eyes at him, “But you’ve literally referred to them as a she several times already.”

“Have I?”, he arched an eyebrow, trying to remember. 

“Yeah,” she chuckled, and held his hand on hers, “It’s okay, Bell. I really think it’s a girl, too.”

“Well,” he squeezed her hand, “We will find out shortly.”

But they didn’t, in fact. On the day of the ultrasound, they decided they didn’t want to know. They wanted it to be a surprise, for them and for everyone, so they opted for waiting until the birth. And, okay, perhaps Bellamy did want a little Princess after all, but he really wouldn’t be disappointed if they had a little Blake boy. Nothing that was half Clarke could ever disappoint him. 

Everything was uneventful and routinary for a while. School, work, doctor’s appointments, baby shopping, sex, repeat. And then, it wasn’t. 

Bellamy didn’t know what hit him. 

One moment he was in their bathroom, the warm water of the shower pouring down on him. He had been working since the early morning, driving back and forth across town to fix all kinds of appliances. He hadn’t seen Clarke all day, and now he was stinky, he felt disgusting, and he needed a shower more than he needed breathing. 

And the next moment, as he walked half-naked into the living room of, get this,  _ his _ house, he was met with a crowd of ‘Ew’s and ‘Cover up!’s. 

“What the fuck?,” he subconsciously grabbed the only towel that was covering him from his waist down. The last thing he needed was to flash his naked body to literally every single one of his friends. 

“What a sight,” Jasper whistled. 

“Too much, too much!,” Octavia covered her eyes with both hands, Lincoln chuckling quietly at her side. 

“What the hell are you all doing here?,” Bellamy frowned. Everyone was literally in their living room: Harper, Monty, Jasper, Maya, Octavia, Lincoln, Emori, Murphy, Miller, Jackson, Raven, Wells and Niylah were splurged out all over the place, the drinks he didn’t even know they had already out. 

Bellamy felt a hand on his back as his confusion only got worse, “I’m sorry, Bell,” Clarke muttered behind him, a sympathetic smile on her face, “They insisted on coming last minute.”

The man stared at his very pregnant girlfriend, and couldn’t help but smile back. He put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. 

His life had pretty much turned upside down seven months ago. The day the Doctor dropped the bomb on him had been the best and most terrifying day of his life so far. It had been unexpected, and it had been an adjustment. Because now they had one little person on the way who they’d have to provide for, and that meant more hours at work. It wasn’t a problem for Bellamy at all, though - he was a natural worker. But between attending school in the mornings and working in the afternoons, he didn’t get to see Clarke as often as he needed. 

Clarke, on the other hand, was advised to take it easy. But of course she didn’t. She wasn’t feeling all that drained yet, and without Bellamy home, doing extra shifts at work to save some money only made sense. 

While it had been kind of a shock to them, their friends couldn’t  _ physically _ wait to be aunts and uncles. And it was getting ridiculous. 

“Why are you all here?,” Bellamy asked again, after having changed into something more appropriate. 

“Baby party, duh,” Raven said. 

He arched an eyebrow, “I didn’t know the baby shower was today,” he was pretty sure baby showers weren’t that late at night, anyway. And weren’t they a thing for women? Or was that something of the past? He wasn’t sure now. 

“We’re not here for  _ that _ ,” Harper smiled. 

“We are here because we have something very important to discuss,” Jasper informed him, stuffing his cheeks with a bunch of peanuts immediately after. 

Bellamy frowned again, “And that is…?”

“Baby gender!,” Emori exclaimed, and everyone cheered after her. 

Clarke chuckled besides him, “We said we were going to wait until the birth.”

“And that’s why we’re here,” Octavia stood up from Lincoln’s lap and plopped down next to the coffee table, paper and pencil in hand, “We’re going to make it interesting.”

“So you’re going to place bets on our child,” Bellamy stated matter-of-factly. 

“That we are going to do,” his sister smirked, “Don’t look at me like that, Bell. I’m the Aunt. I’ve got rights.”

Bellamy shook his head, amused at the scene their friends had caused in the literal span of ten minutes he’d been in the shower. Boy or girl, they both knew their child would be loved and spoiled rotten, and that was all that mattered. But apparently their friends had other ideas about how to take advantage of the situation. 

“Okay,” Octavia started, after writing all their names down on a piece of paper, “We are going one by one, and I’ll write down whether you think it’s a boy or a girl. You can’t say ‘I don’t know’ or shit like that,” she warned them, but she was looking directly at Clarke.

“What?”, the blonde half-chuckled. 

“I know you,” the younger Blake said, “Don’t say shit like that, okay? Let’s make it interesting.”

“I think we should bet $10 each,” Niylah peered in. 

“Totally,” Octavia nodded, “Oh, and by the way, this is a legally binding contract, so no chickening out if you lose.” 

“Alright, let’s go,” Murphy drummed on his thighs, “I’ll bet my $10 on a boy.”

“Hell yes,” Raven agreed, “Boy.”

“I’ll have to disagree,” Niylah smirked, “Girl.”

Octavia wrote everything down quickly, “I think you’re carrying a mini me,” she said, a proud smile on her face, “So, girl. Babe?”

Lincoln hummed, and looked at Clarke’s stomach for a few seconds. Her hands went instinctively to her round belly, “Boy,” he finally said. 

“I think it’s a boy, too,” Harper said, “I have this strong feeling about it.”

Monty nodded besides her, “Yeah, I think it’s a mini Bellamy.”

“I second that,” Wells agreed. 

Clarke’s cheeks flustered. A mini Bellamy. She liked the sound of that. 

“Okay, who’s next?,” Octavia scanned her list, “Maya!”

“Me? Um…,” the girl bit the inside of her cheek as she weighed out her options, “I think I’ll go for boy, too.”

“Wow, alright,” Octavia wrote something down on her paper, “Lots of bets on boys. How are we feeling about that, Jasper?”

“Ah, no,” he shook his head drastically, and took a long sip of his drink before speaking, “I’m totally having a niece. A  _ blonde _ niece, to be specific.”

Bellamy’s eyes twinkled at that. A blonde little princess sounded just right to him. Just like her beautiful mother. God, how would he cope with that? He would never be able to say no ever again if two pairs of blue eyes looked at him like  _ that _ . 

“I think it’s a girl, too,” Miller smiled, “But Jackson over here begs to differ.”

“That, I do,” his boyfriend smirked, “Boy.”

“Okay, Emori you’re last,” Octavia informed her. 

“What did Murphy say?,” she asked playfully. 

“Boy,” he said. 

“Then I say girl,” she smirked, “What? I’m totally getting those $10 from you.”

“Let’s count the votes!”, Octavia cheered. 

“Hey, wait,” Bellamy called, “Shouldn’t the parents vote, as well?”

_ Parents _ . Clarke’s heart started racing. They were going to be  _ parents _ in a little over two months. It still didn’t feel real. 

Octavia rolled her eyes, “Fine, whatever,” she took her pencil and wrote something down, “Girl for Bellamy. What would it be, Clarke?”

“I think it’s a girl, too.” 

“Oh wow,” Monty looked between them, “You’re actually agreeing on this?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy kissed her temple, “We’re totally having another Princess.”

A chorus of ‘Aw’s followed his words, and Clarke was sure her face had turned tomato red from all the attention. She couldn’t believe she was carrying Bellamy’s child. But to her credit, she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t believe it, either. 

Abby and Jake dropped by their place almost every week to help with the finishing touches of the house. Abby insisted that they  _ had _ to have flowers in the garden, and so the following week their previously green space became a rainbow of blue, pink, and purple. Clarke couldn’t say she didn’t like it. 

Aurora, being a seamstress, knitted  _ a lot _ of little clothes for the baby, and Clarke’s hormones never cooperated. The minute she’d see them, she’d start crying because  _ oh my god, Bellamy, look at them, they are so tiny. _ She also brought them a lot of food, which they were incredibly thankful for. After a long day of classes and work, the last thing they wanted was to put their aprons on. 

Life was tiring, but at the same time...it was easy. Their relationship had grown stronger, perhaps due to the circumstances, perhaps because they were really meant to be with each other. They were more prone to believe the latest. 

And then, one day, it happened. 

When the labour began the pain was more intense than anything Clarke had ever imagined. Nothing could be more brutal, not whips or chains. With each contraction came a pain that dominated her entire being. In those moments, for those seconds that stretched into infinity, there was nothing else.

Bellamy held her hand the whole time, let her crush his fingers with such unexpected force. He didn’t complain once. The pain she was experiencing in that moment would be much, much worse than anything he’d ever feel. And so he let her scream, let her cry, let her crush his bones. 

The midwife was telling her that it was time, time to push. With a guttural grunt she did so until she was told to stop. She didn’t know how many hours had passed, whether it was day or night. All that mattered was Bellamy’s hand holding hers, and the baby, their little baby, who was about to come to the world. After what felt like a lifetime, she sensed the baby crowning, the hot stretching of flesh and she held her breath. 

High-pitched cries erupted into the room, and she was disoriented for a second until she heard Bellamy’s voice, “Clarke…”, she looked over at him in time to see one, two, three, then a hundred tears rolling down his cheeks, as he smiled from ear to ear. 

She watched as the midwife cleaned the baby up, wrapped them up in fluffy blankets, and walked over to them with a soft smile on her lips. 

“It’s a girl,” she said, and Clarke felt Bellamy sob besides her. 

“Bell,” she turned around awkwardly to wrap her arms around him, “We have a little girl, Bell.”

He nodded, tears still falling, and he planted a firm kiss on her forehead, “I love you so fucking much, Clarke. Thank you for making me the happiest man alive.”

She blushed, and squeezed his arm, “I love you, too. Come on, Bell. Hold her.”

His eyes widened, “M-Me?”

“Yes, you,” she smiled, “Come on.”

Bellamy hesitated for a second, but then his eyes travelled to the little, tiny bundle in the arms of the midwife, and he fell. He fell into the depths of his soul, and suddenly there was no one but Clarke and his daughter in the room. There was no pain, no doubts, no fears. There was just love. Pure and raw love. 

It felt like the day his universe was created. 

The midwife carefully placed the little baby on his arms, making her whimper. Clarke watched with amazed eyes as Bellamy adjusted his grip on her with natural confidence. 

Tiny fingers curled around his large one, and Bellamy melted at the contact. His little girl was holding him, feeling him, and  _ fuck _ , it felt so surreal. Her little legs kicked in a tiny jagged motion, looking for that resistance they were used to, but finding nothing but air. She was so small, so very tiny that for a moment he was scared to break her. His eyes then darted to the mop of dark hair on top of her head, and he smiled. 

“She looks so much like O,” he said, softly, tears spilling out of his eyes again. 

Clarke extended her weak arm and gave him a squeeze, her tired smile never leaving her face. Bellamy shifted closer to her so she could take a better look at their newborn daughter. It was too soon to tell, but Bellamy thought she had Clarke’s unbelievably fair skin, and he swore he saw some hints of freckles. 

He watched their girl peer through brand new eyes at what must have been such a strange world after life in the womb. And then it all stopped for him. 

“Clarke…”, he was surprised he could ever find his own voice amidst the inexplicable emotions he was feeling, “Clarke, she has your eyes.”

“Oh, Bell,” she looked down at the precious bundle that was their daughter, and then back at Bellamy. She couldn’t help but chuckle, “She’s going to be the end of you.”

“I already forgot how to say no,” he half-laughed, salty tears still rolling down his cheeks. 

Bellamy eventually placed the baby on Clarke’s arms, and she had never felt anything like it before. This was  _ her _ child. Bellamy and her had made her, purely out of love, and  _ shit _ . She started crying again. 

“She’s so perfect,” she whispered, eyes never leaving the new life on her arms, “Your aunts and uncles are going to spoil you rotten.”

“Oh, yes,” he laughed, “Your grandparents, too. You’re going to be the happiest little baby in the entire world.”

“Thought of any names yet?”, the midwife asked, smiling apologetically for breaking the moment. 

Bellamy and Clarke looked at each other, and panicked. They had, in fact, not thought about any names. It hadn’t seemed like an urgent matter during the first months, but they had completely forgotten to think about it again as the due date approached, between work, school and the stress of a new house. And now there they were. 

Clarke looked down at her daughter, scanning her face slowly. She totally looked like those baby pictures of Bellamy she’d seen hanging on Aurora’s walls - she totally looked like a Blake. She didn’t know what it was, but the words left her mouth before she could really stop to think about them. 

She looked up at Bellamy, “What do you think of Madi?”

“Madi? As in Madison?,” he asked. 

She shook her head, “Just Madi.”

He looked down at the love of his life, sleeping soundly in the arms of the other love of his life, and his heart wrenched. 

He extended a careful finger and caressed the softness of his daughter’s skin, “Hello, little Madi. I’m your Daddy, and I already love you more than anything in this world.”

Clarke looked at him with mesmerised eyes. She had never seen him look so vulnerable, so genuinely happy and  _ fuck _ , she really loved this man to death. 

“So I take it you like Madi?”, she smiled. 

“I love Madi,” he kissed the top of her head, “I think it suits her.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the touch of his lips on her skin, “Madi Blake it is.”

“No,” Bellamy shook his head, earning him a confused glance, “Madi Griffin-Blake,” he smiled. 

The first weeks with Madi at home were...chaotic. She cried a lot, wanted to eat a lot, and neither of them slept for more than a couple of hours straight. Their home was always packed with friends and family who wanted to be with the baby all the time, and while it allowed them to nap for a bit, they missed her like crazy when she wasn’t around. 

Much to Clarke’s dismay, Bellamy became one of  _ those _ fathers. No one could hold his little girl if he wasn’t around to check on them, and it was getting absurd.

“Bellamy, I’ve had two children,” Aurora half-laughed at her son once, “I know how to hold a baby.”

“But you’re not doing it how Madi likes it,” he complained, and took his whimpering daughter from his mother’s arms briefly, readjusting her then on her grip, “Like this.”

Sure enough, Madi relaxed into her grandmother’s arms, and fell asleep again immediately. Aurora smiled softly at the baby, and then up at her son, “You’re the best father she could ever ask for.”

He blushed, eyes never peeling off his little girl, “I try to be.”

When she turned one, Madi started walking. The Doctor said it wasn’t necessarily too soon, but Bellamy kept insisting that their daughter was just a genius like that. The problem was that Madi liked to walk everywhere, and they eventually had to baby proof their entire house even more thoroughly. 

“Hey, where do you think you’re going, lil’ pea?”, Jake scooped Madi up easily, making her giggle. 

“Mommy!”, she exclaimed, throwing her tiny arms up in the air. Jake blew raspberries on her cheek, making her laugh again. He’d never grow tired of hearing that beautiful sound.

“Did I hear a ‘Mommy’ over here?”, Clarke peeked through the living room door, smile wide as she spotted her daughter on her father’s arms, “Are you being a good girl for Papa?”

Madi nodded eagerly, “Everything done upstairs?”, Jake asked. 

“Mom and Bellamy are finishing up with the bathroom,” she said, a tired expression on her face, “Who knew a house had  _ that _ many corners.”

“This little one does, don’t you baby?”, Jake tickled her sides, making her laugh uncontrollably. 

Madi wasn’t a difficult child, but she definitely was adventurous. Ever since she discovered that she could walk, and  _ run _ , everywhere, it was over for Clarke and Bellamy. They could no longer get their eyes off her any second, because when they did, she’d run into something and start crying uncontrollably. 

When Madi turned two, she started to attend Octavia’s classes at the gym. It was a group for little kids and they didn’t do much, but Madi looked up to her Aunt ever since day one, and she wanted to do everything Octavia did. That, of course, included kicking ass. 

Although her favourite one was undoubtedly Aunty O, Madi was quick to turn into a mini-Clarke, much to Bellamy’s happiness. She loved painting, she was snarky and intelligent, and she of course had him wrapped around her little finger. 

“Daddy!”, Madi’s voice could be heard from every corner of the house, but it didn’t take Bellamy much time to find her. 

Her little legs carried her clumsily as she entered the living room, holding a piece of paper and a red crayon in each hand. Bellamy looked up from the papers he was grading. A few months prior, he had managed to land a position in Arkadia High, where he was currently teaching History. He had graduated in two years, and with honours - every school in town had essentially  _ begged _ him to accept their offers. 

“Yes, Princess,” he looked down at his daughter, brown hair wild and halfway out of her ponytail. Her big blue eyes were staring at him with such intensity his knees went weak. 

“Can I draw with you?”, she asked in her little voice, and Bellamy immediately patted his legs so she could go and sit on his lap. Madi happily obliged, and started drawing in silence right away as he kept working. 

He’d kiss her cheek every now and again, making her giggle, “Your beard tickles, Daddy!”

“It does,” he heard a voice come from the doorway. Clarke was standing there, all dressed up and with her arms crossed. She had an amused smile on her glossy lips. 

“Looking good, Mommy,” he teased. 

“Pretty!”, Madi exclaimed. 

“Well, thank you,” she chuckled, “We are meeting some new potential artists this evening. I might come home a bit late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bellamy smiled, “Little Princess and I are going to watch some cartoons and then we’re going to take a bath, aren’t we?”

Madi made a disgusted face, “No bath, Daddy.”

“Yes bath, Madi,” he tickled her sides, and the room erupted into a giggle party. It was his favourite sound in the entire world. 

Lincoln had finally opened his own gallery a year 

ago, and he had asked Nyko and Clarke to partner up with him. She had hesitated to accept at first, not because she didn’t believe in Lincoln, but because the uncertainty of the project wasn’t what they needed at the time, given that they had to provide for a baby. 

But Bellamy and her parents had insisted that she’d been missing out on the opportunity of essentially having her own art gallery, and so she took a leap of faith. Now, one year later, Trikru Gallery had become one of the fanciest spots in the state, and Lincoln was considering opening a second one in Polis. 

“Be good for Daddy, okay my love?”, Clarke kissed the top of her head, then Bellamy’s lips softly, “I love you.”

“We love you, too,” he smiled, “Have fun, Mommy!”

“Fun!”, Madi clapped. 

When Madi started preschool at the age of three, Bellamy was a mess for a while. Their little girl was no longer going to stay at home with them, or hang out at the park with Octavia, or with either of their families. She was going to  _ school  _ now. With other children. 

Clarke saw it coming, really. Seeing how protective Bellamy had always been of his sister, and then of her, she had expected him to be a million times worse with their daughter. So she ignored him for her own good, until she physically couldn’t anymore. 

“Bellamy, I love you with all my soul, but you’re a pain in the ass,” she told him one day, once they had dropped Madi at the preschool. 

“I’m not,” he said, but deep down he knew he had probably crossed a few lines, “I just worry about her.”

“I know you do,” she sighed, “And I worry about her, too. But it’ll just get worse from now on, Bell. What are you going to do when she starts hanging out with her friends at the mall, or something?”

Bellamy almost laughed at his girlfriend’s idea of hanging out in that day and age. He taught teenagers at a high school - they did  _ not _ hang out at the mall. And that’s what he was anxious about. 

“I guess I’ll just go crazy,” he shrugged. 

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, and decided to drop the subject. Deep down, Bellamy knew his behaviour could eventually get out of hand, and so he made his New Years Resolution not to be that kind of father.

One year later, he was indeed that kind of father still. But he was getting there - or so he wanted to believe. 

“Mommy,” Madi’s small voice startled her as she finished making breakfast. 

She was sitting at the table with Bellamy, as they both tried their best to draw Grandma Aurora and Aunty O. 

“Yes, baby,” Clarke was keen on not getting her toast burnt this time. Three days in a row would be embarrassing even for her, and she knew Bellamy wouldn’t let her live down to it. She wasn’t a great cook, okay. No need to remind her every five seconds. 

Madi coloured Octavia’s hair as she spoke, “Charlotte told me she was going to have a little sibling soon.”

Charlotte was one of Madi’s closest friends at the preschool. She went over to their house on play dates often, and Clarke though her mother was nice enough. She was a pretty young mother, too, which made her feel comfortable and understood. 

Bellamy looked at his daughter carefully, “That’s good for her,” Clarke said almost absentmindedly, internally celebrating that her toast were a little bit brown, but certainly not burnt to ashes. 

“Yeah,” Madi’s tongue was out in concentration as she tried to colour within the line. 

“That’s a really good drawing of Aunty O,” Bellamy smiled. 

He had completely abandoned his drawing to watch his daughter. She had thankfully inherited Clarke’s artistic genes, which made him unbelievably happy. But she also liked to read (or tried to read), and she absolutely adored it when he told her bedtime stories. She could no longer fall asleep without his voice. 

Madi was the love of his life. Her and Clarke were the reasons why he woke up every morning with a smile, with motivation to deal with the difficult days, and the reasons why he was looking forward to coming back home the second he left the house. 

They were his girls, his Princesses, and he loved them more than he would ever love anyone else, even himself. 

“Daddy?”, Madi asked in such a small voice it melted his heart. 

“Yes, my love,” he stroked her long hair slowly. 

“What’s a sibling?”

He half-chuckled, “A brother or a sister. Like Aunty O. She’s my sibling,” he explained, “Why?”

She shrugged, and kept drawing for a while until it was all done. She proudly showed it to him, then went running to Clarke and asked her if she could hang it on her bedroom wall, just like she did at the gallery. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” she smiled, and kissed the top of her head as she felt a heartwarming feeling on her chest. 

Madi beamed, “Daddy! I’m going to be an artist like Mommy!”

“You already are, love,” he smiled fondly at her. 

“Mommy,” she looked up at Clarke, blue eyes locking with blue, “Can I have a sibling, too?”

The words caught Clarke off-guard, and she froze in place. She looked up at Bellamy, who had the same expression on his face, and suddenly her mind was blank. 

“We’ll see, baby,” she managed to let out. 

Madi seemed convinced enough, because she dropped the subject the second she saw the toast. Clarke breathed again. 

The rest of the morning went smoothly. Bellamy got ready for work, and Clarke got Madi ready for school. She wouldn’t have to be at the gallery until the afternoon, but she still loved to drop Madi off with Bellamy. It had become quite the tradition, and Madi loved it. 

She’d wave her parents goodbye easily and forget all about them as soon as she spotted the million friends she seemed to have. 

“And you were worried about her being a loner or something,” Clarke teased Bellamy as they watched their daughter disappear into the building, hand-in-hand with Charlotte. 

Bellamy rolled his eyes playfully, “Worried is my second name.”

Clarke smacked his arm playfully, and they made their way back to the car. They drove in silence for the most part, enjoying the quiet moment that was so rare for them now. Madi was a happy child, bubbly like Octavia, and they could never grow tired of her little voice. Now that she was at school, it felt weird to be able to hear their own thoughts. 

“I miss her like crazy throughout the day,” Clarke muttered behind the wheel. 

Bellamy nodded besides her, “One definitely notices it when she isn’t around.”

The immense building of Arkadia High appeared in the distance, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel her heart wrenching. She knew how much Bellamy loved his job, but she’d miss him like crazy, too. 

Before stepping out of the car, he brought their lips together into a slow, soft kiss, “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too, Bell,” she smiled softly, “Have a good day.”

“You too,” his hand reached for the door handle, but then he stopped. He glanced at Clarke’s stomach, then at her eyes, “By the way. When are we telling Madi she’s going to be a big sister?”

Clarke placed a hand over her slightly swollen belly, and smiled fondly, “Soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a wild ride! I have a couple of ideas for long one-shots (mainly canon verse) that I’ll publish perhaps this same week 😊 But I want to know what you’d want to read about, too! So if you’ve got any requests/prompts you’d want me to write, leave them bellow.
> 
> Thank you again, and see you very soon 💙


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